Dagor Dagorath
by A.N. Lindale
Summary: When the First Dark Lord escapes the Void, events long foretold are set into motion and one young woman with her family and legendary figures from the ancient past must come together to finally end a war that has been raging since the dawn of time...
1. The Breaking of Angainor

**Author's Note:** Almost all the characters, places, and mention of certain events are from the fertile mind of J.R.R. Tolkien. We do not own them nor do we have the right to claim to own them. This work is a tribute of sorts to his genius.

**Short Background**: Professor Tolkien himself believed that to write a fantasy or fairy-story means to make it as real as possible to the reader. In that sense, the world of the story needs to be close to mirroring human reality, not as an allegory but as a true image of what we perceive. The Middle-earth of the Lord of the Rings depicts a Medieval world fraught with age-old creatures of myth and legend—Elves, Dwarves, Goblins, Dragons, and various other monsters found in fairy tales. The Medieval or Middle Ages occurred more than 700 years ago. The world we live in now has to be a product of that time. It is with this realization that the story you are about to read comes as a conclusion to the events that began and seemingly ended our knowledge of Middle-earth. So many years and so many ages. The time has come for Middle-earth to surface again.

For a more satisfying read, I personally suggest having the LotR soundtracks playing in the background.

"_What really happens is that the storymaker proves a successful 'subcreator'…he makes a Secondary World which your mind can enter. Inside it, what he relates is 'true': it accords with the laws of that world." _J.R.R. Tolkien, _On Fairy-Stories _essay

* * *

**Dagor Dagorath (The Final Battle)**

**_The Breaking of Angainor_**

_ From splendour he fell through arrogance to contempt for all things save himself, a spirit wasteful and pitiless. Understanding he turned to subtlety in perverting to his own will __all that he would use, until he became a liar without shame. He began with the desire of Light, but when he could not possess it for himself alone, he descended through fire and wrath into a great burning, down into Darkness. And darkness he used most in his evil works upon Arda, and filled it with fear for all living things._

_ ---Valaquenta, _The Silmarillion

The wisdom of the world has grown ancient, recoiling in its past as its future comes at hand. Old legends are forgotten, great kings and people sought out in books of fiction. Men have now mastery over nature, their hands clasped about its neck and draining its life away. Conundrums, contraptions, mechanizations. Men's Beloved.

Unbeknownst to Men, in a far away land yet not quite removed from the world, there still dwelt they who have renounced these earthly things. It is a place where the past is as the future is as the present. Time is woven there in intricate threads. It is where beauty never fades and life does not end. The halls are bathed in pure light and the air is eternally soft and fresh. Springs burst forth alive like fountains dancing along to the sound of the birds that flutter too close to the blades of grass.

Paradise. The Blessed Realm. Aman, the place of Valinor. The Land of the Valar and the Eldar.

In the midst of its beauty, there lay a small clearing, hidden by the trees. There stood the tall figure of a woman, her long golden hair touching the grass. Her eyes are turned to the East. She breathed in deeply. At that moment, the skies darkened, if for a while, as if a passing cloud had decided to tarry a while longer. To an ordinary being in an ordinary land, the lingering of a cloud of darkness is not something to worry about.

She opened her eyes, revealing deep pools of blue light.

_ Long have I known such darkness in ages past. It cannot be._

_ The world has clearly changed. _Two beings, one of spirit, as old as the foundations of the earth, and one elf, walked side by side by the shores of Aman, looking out far out into the Sea. The cry of the seagulls wailed in their ears as small waves washed onto their bare feet. They stopped walking and looked far out to sea, their eyes intent upon the glittering point of Mindon Eldalieva, the Tower of Ingwe, the guide of ships and seafarers.

"The world has clearly changed," said the elf. He had a proud bearing for he was of the kin of the Eldar. There was an aged look in his eyes when one sought to look in them and find only great knowledge of many things. A single jewel was set upon his brow and one knew, just by looking, that he was among the greatest of his kind.

"I have begun to feel it weighing heavier for many centuries," answered his companion. In truth, he was not like the other. He shone with a radiance that was not of the world. His eyes twinkled when he spoke and his voice was like music to the ear. Often did he go to the house of Nienna, the Valieri of whom he learned much from. Patience, kindness, fortitude, and wisdom.

"It is ending," said the dark one.

His companion nodded sadly. He looked out over the sea, far beyond Mindon in Tol Eressea, and grief overcame him. He had loved that land and its people. He had loved his friends, all of whom were gone now save for a few. But those who mattered so much more would no longer be with him, lest Mandos and Eru Iluvatar permit it to not be so.

"The world is old, much older than us. Still I do not wish for it to end before my spirit does."

He closed his eyes and decided to let go of his grief, to listen to the waves and the cry of the seagulls. All he heard was the sound of thunder and fire. He opened his eyes immediately as he felt what he heard touch his skin. It had felt real as a huge dark cloud passed over them from the far west traveling towards the east and obliterating the view of Tol Eressea.

The dark one with him froze. "What is this, Olorin?" Yet even his companion was at a loss. The darkness was soon upon them and the world felt cold and a foreboding doom disturbed the air.

"I dare know not," Olorin replied. "But for this, I must go with haste, Lord Elrond. I did not hope to see this day come to pass but the destiny of the world was never in our hands."

"Then may the speed of the wind bear you to Valinor, old friend," Elrond said as Olorin faded into the mists of the sea. He looked up at the gray sky and frowned. "Something must be done soon."

Far beyond the clearing where the solitary woman stood was a clear spring. It spurt forth out of the ground and flowed forward, growing as it reached the east shore, ending upon the edges of the Sea and becoming one with the great body of water. Wherever the spring passed, the flowers grew best. Whoever drank of its water was replenished and made glad. For it was first blessed by Yavanna, the Mother of all Trees and Queen of the Earth, and watched over by her sister, Vana, the Ever-Young.

At the mouth of the spring sat a single being, alone in his thoughts. Like the woman, he had always looked to the east, as if expecting someone to come but he had grown tired of waiting for what was not to come again. It made him sad and desolate, such that the beauty of Valinor no longer gave him peace and serenity. He had been outside Valinor once. He was born there and it was the life he knew before greater things came into light for him. He had been part of that greatest of adventures and knew good friends. But one of them he loved the most and now, after ages past, was lost forever.

Suddenly, a cold feeling of biting cold seeped through his being as a mighty cloud passed over the land. He stood up in surprise. What could be a dark cloud doing in the Land of the Lords of the West?

The spring seemed to have stopped flowing. The birds stopped singing and Time stood very still over the land. Some of the Eldar began talking in hushed tones. Then he saw the Golden Lady walking towards Valinor, her face set in a rigid pose. Several of the Eldar followed after her. No one ever goes into the Realm of the Gods, he thought. Something is happening.

A hand lay upon his shoulder as his blue eyes followed the cloud disappearing into the east. A cold, unspeakable dread washed over him.

"What is happening, Olorin?" he asked.

His last remaining friend said gravely, "Dark times are ahead of us, my friend and this is one disturbance no mortal being can handle like before." Legolas stood and followed after Olorin. Like the Golden Lady, Olorin was hurrying towards Taniquetil, the Tower of the Valar.

"The Lady Galadriel took this same route," Legolas remarked. "For what purpose are we to see the gods?"

Olorin stopped and turned to face the elf. "The First Evil to ever lay waste to the world has returned. By what sorcery we still do not know. All our questions shall be answered by the Valar and their wisdom will guide us. Now, let us make haste for the Mahanaxar, Legolas, for Angainor has been broken. Morgoth Bauglir has been set loose into the World."

Olorin turned around and continued on his way to Taniquetil. For a long while, Legolas Greenleaf stood alone in the midst of Lorien's gardens, unable to comprehend how Sauron's master was able to escape the eternal prison. He watched Olorin's back as it faded into the gathering mists and knew why the Maiar wanted him in the council of the gods.

"I have labored long for love of Middle-earth and faded," he said to the wind. The breeze touched his face, as if lamenting his sundering from the world. "Must I go again?"

The wind sang in his ear and a lone eagle streaked across the sky towards Taniquetil.

Legolas nodded to the sky. "Yes. I must." He followed after Olorin.

* * *

Definitions:

Aman - the hidden and secret land of the gods of Middle-earth, the Valar

Mindon Eldalieva (Tower of Ingwe)- the tower used by the High Elves much like the way we use lighthouses today

Olorin - Gandalf's name as a Maia in Valinor; for the elves in Middle-earth, he is known as Mithrandir.

Nienna - a Valieri or a female god/goddess; each Valar/Valieri stands for a virtue or special skill like the Greek/Roman/Scandinavian gods and goddesses of myth which influenced Tolkien; she is a goddess who frequents the same gardens (Lorien) where we find Legolas in this chapter; she is a sad goddess, more like a mother who eternally mourns the sufferings of the world/her children; Olorin/Gandlaf learned patience and endurance in hope from her

Mindon/Tol Eressea - the land of the ancient men from which Aragorn and half of Elrond's ancestry sprang from

Eldar - High Elves; the very first elves to come to life; these are the elves that never left Valinor for Middle-earth; historically, the race of elves were sundered (divided) when some of them left Valinor for Middle-earth and when some of those from Middle-earth stayed in Middle-earth and never set foot in Valinor.

Taniquetil - a high peak on the Pelori mountains in Valinor; this is the "lighthouse of all lighthouses"; the leader of all the gods stay up here to monitor the events in the world

Mahanaxar - a place where the Valar hold council; imagine the scene in the movie The Fellowship of the Ring when the Elves, Dwarves, etc. were debating what to do with the One Ring

Morgoth Bauglir - the god formerly known as Melkor; the Evil God; much like Satan/Lucifer in Christian religion; he envied the other gods even if the One (this is the God of all gods and of all creation and the universe, aka "Eru Iluvatar") gave him his own special gifts; he was Sauron's boss before Sauron came to power as an independent dark lord; _see the opening quotation to this chapter_

Angainor - the iron chain that was wrought by the gods to restrain Morgoth Bauglir long before the events of the LotR

Note: Sauron is not a god. He is a Maia (similar to the Christian concept of angels) and Olorin/Gandalf was his contemporary (before he turned nasty, that is.)


	2. The Diornans According to Lucy

**The Diornans According to Lucy**

_ How did Curiosity kill the Cat? Did it put the poor feline in a sack and threw it into the river? Or, perhaps, skinned it alive and then had it for dinner? Either way, killing a cat is difficult. I have four more lives to enjoy myself. Or, be punished. The Valar can be cruel._

---unknown, _Westernesse_, Scroll Forty-seven, Great Library of Gondor

Time. Always pressed for time. These words echoed in Lucy Diornan's mind as she tried to make her inkjet printer to work. She was ten minutes away from failing Archaeology 152. She supposed she could grovel later. But she would never grovel and Professor Miklaes had no merciful in his body. She pushed the "ON" button several times but the light would not blink. She cursed under her breath and banged on the stupid thing for the nth time. Her watch told her she had nine more minutes.

When all hope seemed gone, she pushed the button one last time, resolved to repeating Miklaes' class during the summer, and the light blinked. Lucy gasped with delight and proceeded to print her twenty-nine page report on Celtic and Gael history. She glanced at her watch: five more minutes. When the last page was out, she grabbed the stack of papers, did not even bother fixing herself or changing out of her nightshirt and pajamas, and dashed out of her dorm room, almost colliding with one of the girls.

Lucy hurtled across the well-mowed lawns of Harvard, earning curious looks from students laid down or seated on the grass, books or guitars on their laps. A young man from a group who all knew her stood and yelled, "Go for it, Diornan!" The rest of the group howled after her, egging her on. Lucy would have loved to say hello or good morning but she only had three minutes left and Miklaes' office was two buildings away. Without pausing for breath, Lucy slammed into the front doors of the History Building, said a hasty sorry when she bumped an old lady professor's shoulder, and ran as fast as she could up the long flights of stairs and down the long, polished corridors. She finally saw the door to Miklaes' office, saw his shadow moving behind the murky glass, and rushed in.

There was no one. At least not Miklaes. His old secretary Mrs. Burke was arranging several files and folders on his desk. The old woman turned around, her square-shaped spectacles glinting in the morning light filtering through the professor's open windows. She looked surprised to see Lucy there.

Lucy dared to breath in and let the air out silently. Then, she asked, "Where's Professor Miklaes?"

Mrs. Burke, a small, fifty-year-something lady, looked Lucy up and down. "Oh! Miss Diornan! Why are you here? Didn't he tell you? He has gone off to Scotland and won't be back for three months at least."

Lucy blinked. "Scotland? He's on vacation?"

Mrs. Burke walked towards a corner of the room and held up a box containing even more papers, folders, and some books. Lucy offered to help with the load but Mrs. Burke walked ahead of her, out of the Professor's small office and into her own. Several filing cabinets lined the walls. Mrs. Burke laid the box down on her desk and sat down.

"No, he's not on vacation. Professors no longer go on those, I suppose," she said, rummaging inside her desk's cubbyhole and producing a large manila envelope. She handed this to Lucy and Lucy took it with a great deal of curiosity.

"I thought you had gone off with him that's why I asked you why you were here," she added.

Lucy frowned. "Why would I go to Scotland with him? I just came here to submit this report he wanted today. He didn't tell me anything about Scotla--"

Mrs. Burke looked up at Lucy with a confused stare. "I was under the impression you were to go with him there. Several of your classmates are already there. There's your proof."

Lucy decided to stop asking questions and opened the manila envelope. She took out the contents—a plane ticket to London and a clear folder with a page printed with the words BATTLESITE DIG. There was also a folded piece of paper with her name on it. It was in Professor Miklaes' handwriting. She looked up at Mrs. Burke who grinned. "I told you so," she said.

Lucy came out of Miklaes' office feeling annoyed with herself and angry with Miklaes. She could not imagine Miklaes or the old Mrs. Burke playing a practical joke on her. Although she should expect more of the same kind of treatment Miklaes has afforded her for the past two years. After all, her grandfather had been his contemporary and her father had been one of his promising students in the past. For some unknown reason, Miklaes hated her guts and she likewise returned the feeling. Yet she carried on in Archaeology. She loved history and being able to hold it in her hands; to see, feel, smell the past and think of the world's ancestors in their prime. Her grandfather and father submitted themselves to the lure and she also. In the process, they died in their quest for knowledge. Her mother was reluctant to let her tread their path. Lucy wondered if this was more because of an enmity between her forebears and Miklaes. Her mother had always been paranoid when it came to Lucy. Sometimes Lucy would think there was more to her mother's overprotectiveness than it being a normal motherly thing to do. She was pushing twenty-one already!

On the way back, Lucy took to the lawns where her group of friends waited for her. They pulled her on to their wide picnic blankets, set aside their books and sandwich wraps to make room for her to sit on. Lucy Diornan was not popular in the general sense but her ancestry was a top selling point—especially among the geeks.

Bobby Elmo, a chubby, polo shirt-sporting geeky sophomore with a recent acne outbreak asked her immediately, "How'd Miklaes go?"

Lucy replied, "Great. He was not there."

The group looked at her curiously. "He's gone?" Rita Markman, another sophomore with the same case as Bobby Elmo, asked.

"In Scotland. And he did not see it fit to tell me I'm supposed to be there, too."

To answer their questions, Lucy handed them the contents of the manila envelope Mrs. Burke gave her, which they all devoured with gusto.

"Oh my God!" Angeline Thornton exclaimed, holding up the ticket. "This is so cool, Lucy!"

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, it is. Miklaes rarely includes his students in his digs. Unless it's because you're the most talented and skillful of his students, I'd say Miklaes has got the hots for you, Lucy."

The group groaned and Lucy slapped Bobby in the arm. "That is not funny, Bobby! I just might not go to Scotland anymore because of what you just said!"

"I'm sorry! Geez! It was just a joke!"

"Besides, he's as old as my grandfather!"

But any explanation would be acceptable if it would make Lucy understand why her most hated Professor and who hated her just as much would include her in this trip. Nevertheless, this was an opportunity she would not miss. She loved archaeology and history more than life itself. Although statements like these made her mother distraught (because her father always said the same thing about his passion for the subject and he was now dead), Lucy knew she would and could never be able to rid herself of it. She felt the itch and now needed to have it scratched.

"She's going," Rita declared before Lucy could even speak. "Your face says it all."

Angeline sighed. "It was already a given. You've always wanted to go out of America and Harvard. There's nothing to dig here anyway. But what about Tom?"

Thomas Bainbridge. Tom. The supposed love of Lucy's life. What about him?

"He can just go screw himself," Lucy said loud enough for the next picnic group to hear. She did not care. Tom screwed with anything and anyone who wore a skirt. He'd hump a lamppost if it did wear one. She took the manila envelope and its contents and stood. "Well. I have to go, guys. Flight's in a day."

As she walked away and back to her dorm, she heard Angeline shout, "If you see William, give him my number!"

"If I do see him, I'll give him Bobby's!" Lucy said over her shoulder, to which Bobby replied with a wild laugh. She walked this time to her dorm and closed the door behind her. She had not slept for many days to finish the report Miklaes wanted her to submit today. And he was not around. She supposed she should feel angrier but the emotion tired her. Instead, Lucy went back to bed and fell asleep instantly.

Rebecca Diornan was tending to her garden when she heard the sound of a car engine near her house. She stood and turned around to see her daughter Lucy getting out of her black Tahoe SUV. She removed her soiled gardening gloves and walked towards the gate as Lucy opened the gates and entered.

"Lucy!" Rebecca said as they embraced one another in greeting. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?" They walked side by side into the house by the front door. Lucy carried only a single backpack.

"I'll be staying here overnight, Mom," said Lucy, walking into the house she grew up in and has not seen for almost a year. The last time she stayed there was when her older brother Aaron figured in a vehicular accident and had to recuperate for several months. Her mother needed all the help with her temporarily crippled son. The house was not too small or too big. It was always immaculately clean and organized for this was her mother's special skill. Rebecca loved things to be in their proper order. Lucy wondered if her mother ever broke a rule in her life. She has always been the perfect woman, the perfect wife, the perfect mother. Lucy never dreamed of becoming like her mother. Lucy was anything but perfect.

"I have to leave for London tomorrow morning." She followed her mother into the small kitchen where a kettle was already singing. Lucy knew her mother to keep to schedule. Her mother believed that visitors may always pop up out of nowhere and tea or coffee needed to be at hand. True enough, there her mother was, pouring hot water into a pot filled with several tea and mint leaves. She placed the tea set on a tray along with a jar of honey and brought it to the living room. Lucy walked behind her mother.

The living room was carpeted and decorated as her mother wanted it—done in hues of blue, pink, and white, with several paintings hanging on the wall. The sofas were plush and comfortable. On a small console stood framed photographs of the family, their aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Her father's photograph was the largest of all, taken when he was still a young man in Harvard, before he met Lucy's father.

"Aaron looks so much like him but you are most like him in every little way," her mother said behind her. She must have noticed Lucy staring at her father. Her mother was right. Aaron was the spitting image and likeness of Jacob Diornan but Lucy felt more akin to him in character and mind. Lucy nodded feebly and sat down on the armchair her father frequented when he was alive. Her mother preferred to sit on the flowery long sofa after pouring her tea. Mother and daughter were silent for a long while, drinking tea.

Lucy finally spoke. "Mik—Professor Miklaes has included me in this dig in Scotland."

Rebecca daintily put her teacup down on the coffee table. She stared at Lucy for a few seconds and Lucy already knew what was going on in her mother's mind. Her father died while he was in a digging excursion in Africa. Muslim rebels took him hostage and beheaded him. Rebecca never recovered from the horrors her father endured and feared the same would happen to Lucy. For the most part, Lucy hated her mother's fear but she tried hard to understand. She tried always.

"Do you really have to go?" asked Rebecca.

"Yes, Mom," said Lucy. "It's Miklaes."

Rebecca tutted. "I really cannot understand what the fascination is with this man Miklaes! Your grandfather and your father…both of them had some things to say about that man. Miklaes this, and Miklaes that!"

Lucy could not believe he was going to say it but she had to. "He is a great man, Mom. He's the best. He knows many things and I can learn more from him…"

"Lucy, curiosity killed the cat," Rebecca interrupted. "I don't know if what you learn from this archaeology bit will help the world in any way."

What would Lucy answer? She, herself, vaguely knew what her studies could do for the world. Her mother once accused her of taking up archaeology merely because she wanted a connection with a father she barely knew. Maybe her mother was right. Lucy craved her father's love and it was taken away from her so quickly. They said that people in the Diornan family lived long lives. Maybe as long as they weren't involved with digging up the past. Her grandfather died working for Hitler while his wife was two months pregnant with Jacob Diornan, Lucy's father. Her father literally lost his head and his limbs while she was playing with her Barbie dolls. Lucy half-expected to die in the process, for the sake of learning. Parasuicide, the term her brother Aaron gave what disorder she had.

Lucy said nothing. It was not a good idea to argue with her mother.

"But you're your father's daughter, more of his stock, I believe," her mother suddenly said, sighing. "Nothing I say will stop you from going. Just be careful."

It was a surprise to Lucy to hear her mother say she was unstoppable. Lucy was of the opinion that he mother will forever hinder her from what she wanted to do with her life. In truth, Lucy had done everything to please her mother. She learned everything her mother held dear to her heart—gardening, cooking, household chores, sewing, and other simple things. Her mother forbade dating boys until she was of age and she did obey her until Tom Bainbridge came along. But he was a cad and he broke her heart. Aaron knew the truth and Lucy wondered if her mother ever knew it, too. Rebecca had become more lenient after the big break-up. Lucy would not put it past her older brother not to rat to their mother.

The phone rang and Rebecca went to get it. She heard her mother say Aunt Deirdre's name. A few minutes later, she came back and told Lucy it was her Aunt Deirdre who called.

"Victor's back from Iraq, thank heavens," Rebecca said, smiling. "I hope, and so does Deirdre, that he doesn't get sent back there."

Lucy's cousin and Aunt Deirdre's son, Victor Jeffries, graduated from West Point two years ago and was immediately shipped off to Africa. Her mother had wept buckets, more so than Aunt Deirdre herself. Aunt Deirdre had to do the comforting and not the other way around. But now that Victor was back, everything was going to be all right. She could almost hear her mother's thoughts go, planning a huge welcome dinner for her nephew.

If there was one thing good about her mother, it was her warmth and kindness. Lucy supposed she felt sorry for Victor and his twin brother, Wallace, and Aunt Deirdre. Aunt Deirdre's husband, Roland Jeffries, left them when the twins were still little. He left Aunt Deirdre because he thought she was a madwoman. She was eccentric and spoke always about her father's and brother's works, about ancient myths and legends, and believing them to be true. According to her mother, for many years, Aunt Deirdre endured a battery of psychological tests. She was later diagnosed with schizotypal personality disorder and the family court almost took her children away from her. In any case, Roland Jeffries died soon after without changing his last will. His wife and sons inherited his wealth, which was huge. Aunt Deirdre continued to live as she did. Lucy thought Wallace and Victor would be embarrassed with their mother but they were not. Lucy was embarrassed with her mother most of the time. She felt cruel and guilty.

While her mother busied herself with cleaning up the tea set, Lucy walked over to the console and looked at the pictures. There was a picture of her family when her father was alive. She must have been four or five, Aaron was ten or eleven. It was taken outside Disneyland. Another picture was of her mother's family, her Grandpa Marty and Grandma Grace, both of whom were dead. Her mother had three sisters and two brothers, all of whom were scattered across the globe. Her father's family was in another picture, taken when her father was already a grown man. Lucy peered closely at the photograph. It seemed to her eye that her father looked more like a boy than a man. He was young but Lucy knew him to be past thirty when the picture was taken. Her great grandmother Beatrix was there and she looked no less than fifty years. Another picture was that of Aunt Deirdre and her boys when they were in high school. Wallace, the smart one, graduated Class Valedictorian. He looked and acted nothing like the wilder and bulkier Victor. From what Lucy remembered of him, Wallace was quieter and more thoughtful while Victor was always the brash one. But they were both good-looking boys and Lucy felt a bit insecure. Her own mother had been a beauty in her youth. The Diornans were a beautiful family. Lucy thought it was juvenile to think about her looks now but she just could not cut it. She will always be the ugly duckling.

"Lucy, you wouldn't mind helping me prepare for dinner, would you?" she heard her mother ask. "I invited Mrs. Childer and Mrs. Patkins to dinner tonight. We might play some cards or scrabble. You may join if you want to. You always loved playing scrabble."

Lucy shook her head and gave her mother a wan smile. "I'll help you with dinner, Mom but I don't think I can play tonight. I have to leave early tomorrow."

So Lucy went after her mother into the kitchen for the second time that day. It was already late in the afternoon and her mother took cooking seriously. Much work would be done, even if it was just a dinner with her mother's lady friends. Lucy could not wait for the day to end so she could finally go where her heart truly lay.


	3. British Roots

**British Roots**

"We can say that the 'raw material' behind the evolution of life on earth was the continual _variation_ of individuals within the same species, plus the _large number of progeny_, which meant that only a fraction of them survived. The actual 'mechanism', or driving force, behind the evolution was thus the _natural selection_ in the struggle for survival. This selection ensured that the strongest, or the 'fittest' survived."

---Alberto, Sophie's World (Jostein Gaarder)

The alarm clock rang five o'clock in the morning. Lucy opened her eyes to the dark and groped for the snooze button. Having found it, she rose fully from bed, ready to leave. After a quick shower, she dressed up in her usual t-shirt and faded jeans and sneakers, and grabbed her backpack. She stood in front of her mother's bedroom door for several minutes, fist poised to strike the surface. But Lucy decided not to wake Rebecca. It was not necessary. She went to the kitchen where her mother had tacked a whiteboard on the wall beside the fridge. Lucy hastily scribbled her farewell. Then, she called for a taxi, which arrived in less than thirty minutes, and Lucy got in. She left the house for good.

The trip from America to London was uneventful and Lucy slept for most of the time. She knew she ought to get as much rest as she could. Miklaes was a slave-driver. If she wanted to be in his good graces for the rest of the term, she must be willing to keep her eyes and brain working for twenty-four hours, seven days a week. Lucy woke up only to eat and then watched the Golden Compass film for a while. She slept again and woke when the plane was about to land in Heathrow International Airport. Lucy went to get her backpack and her one suitcase. As she walked down the tunnel towards the arrivals area, she saw a huge white placard bearing her name behind the crowd of people. She walked towards the bearer and saw it to be a man in his late thirties, with a full crop of orange hair and a boyish grin.

"Hi!" she said, holding out a hand. "I'm Lucy Diornan."

The man let the placard drop to his side and shook Lucy's hand. "Hullo! Welcome to Britain!" He had a thick British accent and Lucy found she liked hearing it. "I'm John Drummond. So pleased to meet you!" He took Lucy's suitcase and together they began walking out of the airport.

"Your first time in England, I was told," he said. They walked out of the entrance and towards the parking lot.

"Yes, it is," she replied. He fished out a set of keys from his slacks pocket and pointed it at a parked blue mini. The mini emitted a beeping sound. He opened the passenger door and Lucy got in. After placing the suitcase in the backseat, he sat behind the wheel and they were on their way.

"So you're Professor Miklaes' student," he said, exiting the parking lot. They were quickly on the road.

"Yes, I am," said Lucy, deciding not to include _unfortunately_. "I suppose he did not send you here to pick me up."

John Drummond glanced at her and chuckled. "Yes, the old chap can be something. Contrary to what you think, he did send me down here from Hebrides."

Lucy turned to face him. "Hebrides?"

John nodded. "Did he not give you the details of the dig?" Then Lucy remembered the manila envelope.

"Oh! Yes, he did. But there was no mention there of the Hebrides."

They rounded a curb and finally entered the hub of London. She watched the numerous minis and cabs, the gray-clothed people. London seemed drab and gray except for a few non-conformists like the old lady wearing a neon yellow outfit crossing the street or the Spice Girl wannabe transvestite wearing the Jolly Roger. Lucy could not help but smile.

"Are you hungry?" asked John. Lucy was not hungry but she did not want to keep from getting something to eat if he was. So she said, "I'm famished."

"We'll go to your hotel first and then we can have lunch at the restaurant in the lobby."

After checking in a hotel, Lucy and John went to the restaurant and ordered food.

"So tell me about the Hebrides," said Lucy, spearing a round green olive with her fork and popping it into her mouth.

John swallowed. "Well, it's off the coast of Scotland. There's an island there, more like reclaimed land from the sea. Global warming and all that stuff, I suppose. One day, five fishermen found the island jutting out of the water where there was no island before. 'Course, they reported it to the authorities and they sent a team of marine scientists and geologists."

"They found something?"

John nodded. "A rare find. I was with the first team of archaeologists sent there by the government. It felt like finding Atlantis."

"Excuse me? What?" asked Lucy. Finding Atlantis has always been a major dream for any archaeologist. To find the mystical lost civilization would be something extraordinary indeed.

John laughed, surveying Lucy's expression of surprise. "So you're one of those, eh? I can tell you now that once news of this dig and what we found there leaks out, people from all walks of life will come swarming the place. Because it is like finding Atlantis. This is way better than Easter Island." He continued to finish his kidney steak. Lucy stopped eating altogether.

"And what was in there, Mr. Drummond?"

John took a long drink of water before saying, "Please, just call me John. What we found there is unbelievable. We found the remains of a civilization. Layers upon layers of them. And some bones, mind you. Those were the best finds of all."

"Bones?"

John, who carried his briefcase around all the time, took out a large clearbook and handed it to Lucy who opened it eagerly and could not believe her eyes. There were bones, yes. Many bones.

"Human bones," Lucy whispered. She looked up at John but he was frowning. "Not human?"

He shrugged. "We really cannot say at this point in the research. At first glance they look human. Some of the bones are human, yes. But the others—look at page ten—are slightly different. The bones are longer and the skulls have different bony prominences than that of a human being. Look at the blown-up version on page eleven."

Lucy turned to the page he indicated and saw an enlarged version of a skull. It was perfectly turned upward, so that one could see the bony orbits, the nasal bones, and the facial bones. What Lucy saw different were the maxillary bones, the mandible, and the mastoid bone.

"This is the most beautiful skull I have ever seen," she remarked. "High cheekbones, a clean jawbone…but the mastoid bone looks a few millimeters askew."

"That is only possible if there is something different with the ears," said John. "Those bones were found on the first and uppermost layer. I tell you, Miss Diornan, we found several more layers underground. The bones were found more than a year ago. Five months ago, one of our researchers found a mummy."

When Lucy opened her mouth to ask another question, John held up a hand. "Let us save the rest when you arrive at the island. I can't explain everything to you here and it will be much more satisfying to see everything up close."

Lucy sighed and agreed. "So, what do we do now? Do we go there today?"

John shook his head and paid for the lunch. "No. They told me to let you go around London for the next two days, buy anything you think you might need on the island. The place is a bit far off. It takes three hours by a fast boat to reach it from Scotland. We won't be coming on land for many days."

"What about you?"

"Me? I scheduled a meeting with my mates tonight. You're welcome to join us if you want."

Lucy thought it would not be a good idea to bond with a group of middle-aged men so she declined. "Thanks but I think I'll see the sights first."

"You'll be all right by yourself?"

"Oh, sure! Everyone here speaks English, right?"

With a laugh, John excused himself and told her he would pick her up at seven in the morning in two days. When John had left, Lucy went up to her hotel room and changed clothes, after which she braved the streets of London. She bought an umbrella and a raincoat just in case it rains. And it did.

She went to Marks and Spencer first and bought some stuff. She went to West End and was lucky to buy a ticket for a musical. Then she went to see Kensington Gardens and King's Cross Station. She stepped aside as a group of Japanese tourists hurried forward, eager to take their pictures between platforms nine and ten. Lucy smiled to herself and walked on. She would have gone to the Tower of London but she was beginning to feel weary of walking around. By nightfall, she went back to her hotel, had dinner alone, and went to sleep.

The next morning was almost the same except she decided to be more productive. She got a pass into the public library and began to do some research. John was right. The dig was still being kept secret. There were no news articles on the project. So Lucy continued her research in the vein of Celtic and Gael culture. There were a lot of materials in Harvard but the material in Britain was astounding. After a quick lunch, she went to the Royal Museum. She headed for the section on Celtic art. One piece caught her attention—a long, curving sword with a jeweled hilt and handle. She bent and peered at the sword closely. The lines were intricate and so were the etchings right on the thin blade. Lucy could not help but be enamored with the object that she almost fell forward had someone not grabbed her shoulder in time.

She righted herself with a gasp of surprise and turned around. An older lady had saved her. The woman smiled at Lucy. "Careful there, ma'am."

Lucy blushed red. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--"

"It's all right! No harm done!" said the woman. She glanced from Lucy to the sword. "You're not the first one to do this."

Lucy smiled lopsidedly. The woman continued. "A lot of people, myself included, love staring at that sword. It is a very beautiful thing, is it not?"

Nodding, Lucy replied, "Yes, it is."

"Looks Celtic, right? Maybe Scandinavian?"

Lucy looked at the woman. "It is Celtic…is it? Scandinavian?"

The woman smiled and led Lucy out of the hall into another one adjacent to it. "You are a student of history, hm?"

"How did you know?"

"I used to be one," said the woman. For a moment, Lucy thought the woman looked ready to cry. Her voice shook when she spoke. "But some things we cannot have forever. Here, you will love these."

The woman showed her a glass cabinet containing more swords, arrows, shields, helmet, and weapons of war. "This is amazing!" Lucy breathed. "Where did all these come from?"

"They were dug somewhere in the western coasts of France, probably washed onto the shore," said the woman.

"But why are they not inside the Celtic room?"

"Because they are not Celtic. At least not the kind of Celtic you know of," the woman said. "These are the objects of continuing research. No one really knows where these things came from. Some said from the Iron Age but any good student of history knows the Iron Age knew nothing about detail as intricate as the ones you see here. We carbon-dated everything and the scales were off the charts. The test failed and so we have no answers still."

Lucy felt something different within her but she could not place the feeling. It was as if she ought to do something but she did not know what that something was. She turned to the woman and said, "Well, I wish you good luck."

The woman smiled and shook Lucy's hand even though she did not make a move to offer it. "No. I wish you good luck. I tell you, not everything is what it seems. Be careful out there, all right?"

The woman released her hand and walked away, leaving Lucy astounded. She followed after the woman but she was gone quickly. Mystified, Lucy left the museum and went back to her hotel room. She was bothered with what the woman told her and excited about the dig. Maybe that was the reason for her weird feelings. Lucy went to bed without eating dinner. She could not eat. It was as if she was going to burst.

_What was happening to her?_

Lucy was awake an hour before John picked her up. She could not sleep. She felt exhausted because she dreamed…she could not remember. She felt as if she had run a thousand miles and her hands felt like they were on fire. Lucy took a bath and cried under the shower. She felt very sad and despairing. Lucy attributed it to stress and she willed herself to calm down. She thought about getting breakfast but she could not take one swallow. So she waited for John in the lobby. He came on time and they took a cab towards the train station.

"You'd see more of the sights if we ride the train," he told her. When Lucy did not respond, he looked at her curiously. "Are you okay? You don't look well to me."

Lucy smiled. "Oh! I'm fine! I just have a lot of my mind. That's all."

John looked unconvinced but he did not press her further. On the train ride, he did most of the talking for an hour while Lucy replied with one-word answers. John eventually tired and took a nap. He woke up when the lunch cart passed by. They ordered cold drinks and cold sandwiches. Then, John's mobile phone rang. He excused himself and went out of the booth. She looked out of the window and suddenly she thought of her father and grandfather.

Her great grandmother Beatrix was born here in England. According to her elders, Beatrix Diornan had been a willful woman and had a child out of wedlock. That child was her grandfather Francis. Having no husband, Francis took his mother's father's name. And so the name Diornan continued down the line. Lucy never knew her grandfather because he died before his own son could know him. Francis Diornan was a scholar and archaeologist. When the Second World War broke out, he had to leave Oxford and become a soldier. In 1942, he was sent to Auschwitz and ended up a prisoner. Not a prisoner like the Jews because he was Catholic. Hitler, according to family history, used him and his knowledge to search for something. What that something was no one knows, not even his wife, Grandma Eleanor, knew. He did not tell her what Hitler wanted him to find. The man allowed Grandma Eleanor to see Grandpa Francis. When she was two months' pregnant with Lucy's father, Hitler reported had her grandfather shot in the head twice. His wife never saw his body again, only the gruesome picture of his corpse among many that was burned with the Jews of the ghettos.

Grandma Eleanor raised three-year-old Aunt Deirdre and Lucy's father, Jacob, alone for many years. It was not until five years later when Great Grandma Beatrix, along with Great Uncle Norman and Great Aunt Polly arrived at her doorstep and offered aid. Grandma Eleanor took the offer graciously and Aunt Deirdre and Lucy's father grew up amidst scholarly things. Great Uncle Norman was an architect and Great Aunt Polly was a chemist. Great Grandma Beatrix was a history teacher.

When Grandma Eleanor died, Lucy's father taught for a while in Oxford and many years later left England together with Great Grandma Beatrix and Great Aunt Polly. He was already married to Lucy's mother and once in a while would go back to Oxford to teach. Great Uncle Norman remained in England and no one has heard from him for years. Lucy's father became an archaeologist and married late because he loved his work very much. It was a wonder, her mother would say, and that he even had the guts to ask her out. Jacob Diornan had been a nerd and no one paid him the slightest attention. Lucy had asked her mother what made her marry her father, Rebecca said, "He treated me like an equal, even if I was a girl, and a very young one who knew nothing about scholarly matters. We were partners."

That's why her mother could never get over the loss. There was no one like her father. He died horribly and so far away. No one could guess what he was thinking as he was being tortured and chopped to pieces. Everyone knew what happened to him, thanks to CNN and BBC. Lucy was only eight years old. She did not understand why anyone would want to kill her father. Of course, she did not understand—she barely saw him. He was always away on some expedition, some faraway dig site, some convention. Nevertheless, when he was home, he made it a point to spend a lot of time with her and Aaron. That was according to her mother. Lucy had few memories of her father but she remembered him fondly. She remembered his stories most of all…

"Bored already?"

Lucy strayed from her thoughts and looked up at John who resumed his seat. She smiled and shook her head. He laughed.

"It's all right. Looking at meadows is boring," he told her.

The train ride was long, delayed by many stops, and by the time it finally stopped in Edinburgh, it was close to sunrise the next morning. Lucy and John checked in separate rooms in a small hotel and slept straight. The next morning, they were on the go again. From Edinburgh they boarded a chartered plane to the westernmost region of Scotland, to the Isle of Skye and landed in a small airfield in Kyleakin. Just when Lucy thought she could not bear another ride, they had to take another plane to an island called Barra, landing on an even smaller airfield in Castlebay.

"Oh God! Please, not another trip!" Lucy moaned. John looked at her with pity.

"I'm sorry but this is the only way we can get to the island," he said apologetically. They rode a small car towards the nearest dock where a small yacht was waiting for them. The yacht's captain took one look at Lucy and declared her incapacitated. They let Lucy rest inside the bunk and she fell asleep immediately.

Three hours later, John woke her up.

"Are we there yet?" she asked groggily.

John grinned. "Come on!"

Lucy followed after him and they stood at the prow of the yacht. Lucy gasped with wonder.

John patted her back and said, "Welcome, Lucy Diornan, to Numenor!"


	4. Resznik Speaks

**Resznik Speaks**

_ "He who treads softly goes far."_

---Chinese proverb

Lucy was at a loss for words from the moment she stepped off the yacht until she arrived at the entrance to the site after riding a battered yellow Jeep. The island was as large as London itself, according to John, and not very mountainous. After so many years buried underwater, corals and bones of marine life were scattered on the ground. John told her that most of their finds were the remains of marine life.

"But what about this?" she asked, showing him the front page of the less-than-detailed summary of the dig. It said BATTLEFIELD SITE. John nodded.

"Well, the first layer did yield more of fish bones and even the jaw of a whale. Half of the first layer going into the second and third layer was riddled with weapons. Swords, bows, arrows, shields, helmets, mail, and so on. There's a whole tent here dedicated to studying and storing the lot. The strange thing was that none of them bore any resemblance to the art detail of any civilization we know. They look Celtic, some say Scandinavian or even Arab, but most of us here doubt it. None of us has ever seen such material before. If you've gone to the museum in London, you would have seen an area there with markings like the stuff we found here. Miklaes believes that aside from being a fishing town, this island had seen a great war before it sank under the sea. Hey, have I told you that he hates calling this place Numenor?"

She did not even bother to ask why Miklaes would. Lucy could not wait to get out of the Jeep. When the Jeep finally halted, Lucy jumped out and walked as fast as she could through the open gates, John hurrying after her. John led her towards the largest white tent in the area. Not even seeing Miklaes' one-hundred-seventy-pound aging image in the flesh dampened her mood.

"Ah! So the prodigal student has finally arrived," Miklaes blurted out. But Lucy was undaunted. She smiled at him and even thanked him for including her in the team.

Miklaes, surprisingly, was not in the mood to banter with her. He immediately led her out of the tent and into another one where a long box was laid on a long table. Two archaeologists were at hand.

"Open it," he instructed them. They removed the box lid and Miklaes let Lucy take a peek inside.

"What do you think?" asked Miklaes.

Lucy had no idea what to think. Her mind went blank. She had no idea what she was looking at. Miklaes then led her out of the tent and back to the larger tent. He made her sit down and placed a large portfolio in front of her. They were blown-ups of the corpse—or mummy—he showed her.

"This is…"

Miklaes peeked out of the tent and shouted for someone. In a few moments, a young man in his mid-twenties came in. He was tall, with a Slavic face, and a poker face. His black hair was powdered with dust and he was still wearing working gloves.

"Ivan Resznik, Lucy Diornan, my student from America," Miklaes introduced them. Lucy smiled at Ivan Resznik but it was not returned. Lucy pursed her lips.

"Ivan Resznik was the one who found the mummy," said Miklaes.

Lucy looked up admiringly at Resznik. Resznik shrugged at took a seat.

"It was in the third layer," he told Lucy, removing his working gloves. "Buried under a bed."

"It looks very well-preserved," remarked Lucy.

"The cold Atlantic water did that," he said. "This is land that knew habitation and civilization and sunk beneath the ocean ages ago."

"The civilization is highly advanced, making it difficult for us to categorize the time period," said Miklaes, pointing to a blackboard hung with a timeline. "The craftsmanship equals that of the Dark Ages, possibly earlier than that but carbon dating is askew. It dates the artifacts beyond the Iron Age and that's not possible with this kind of detail."

Lucy remembered her trip to the museum in London and the woman who spoke with her there. "What is your theory, then?"

Miklaes pushed his spectacles up his nose. "There could be Celtic influence, yes. My theory is that the Vikings and Gauls have come here, possibly to raid the land, then inhabited it in the long run, living here undetected and undisturbed for many centuries…"

"And what of the mummy?" interrupted Resznik. Lucy had to commend the man. No one interrupted when the Great Miklaes spoke. But Miklaes looked like a humbled sheep and merely shrugged. Who was this Ivan Resznik? Lucy thought.

"What of the mummy?" Lucy repeated the question to Ivan Resznik. The man pointed to the pictures before her.

"Look closely, Miss Diornan," he said. "Look at the face."

Lucy did as she was told. It did not come to her immediately but the longer she looked, the more she became mystified.

"The ears…"

Miklaes grunted. "The ears! Yes! Pointed!"

"Like elv--" Lucy looked up to see Resznik staring at her and Miklaes shaking his head.

"A deviated mastoid bone and even the petrous bone of the temporal bone of the skull is dissimilar to that found in normal human anatomy," said Resznik, tapping the bony prominence behind his right ear. "We all know that the hearing apparatus is located within the petrous bone in humans. In non-human beings such as these, the petrous bone is wider and has more intimate connections to the base of the skull, possibly the brain. The hearing sense of these beings are far more spohisticated than our own."

"That is one theory I refuse to believe and one that will never hold water in the scientific community," Miklaes declared, standing. "It is just one body! One corpse! Until we find others like it, then whatever you children are thinking of are impossible and mere figments of your imaginations!"

A female in a lab coat entered the tent and told Miklaes there was a phone call for him. Miklaes left Lucy and Resznik. Resznik was unperturbed by Miklaes' outburst and turned his head to look at Lucy.

"So, you're a Diornan," he said when Miklaes was out of earshot.

Lucy shrugged. She did not like being compared to her grandfather or father. "Is that important?"

"I was one of your father's students," he said.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. What did he think? That she could not do simple algebra? "Mister Resznik, you would have to be in your forties to have been my father's student," she told him coldly.

He stood and smiled coldly at her. "Well, not everything is what it seems, Luthien." With a slight bow, he turned and left the tent. Lucy stared open-mouthed. What was that all about? How did he know…?

But Lucy did not have the time to ponder on Resznik's peculiarity or Miklaes' attitude towards her. She eagerly buried herself in work and endured the heat in the day and the biting cold in the evening. Everyone worked day and night. Rest was not an option.

Lucy worked for the next two weeks. One day, the entire team was gathered by Miklaes. Lucy found out he was running the show for someone else, a man named Richard Bancroft, an English multimillionaire. He was funding the project. A man with a megaphone stood above them and announced that they will have to leave the island the next day. There were a lot of protests from the team. Lucy stayed silent. She glanced sideways and saw Ivan staring up at the man with the megaphone. He, too, did not react. When the man spoke again, she brought her attention back to the makeshift platform.

"There's a storm coming by tomorrow evening," he told them. If the storm breaks and we are trapped here, we do not what will happen."

"So we'll just leave everything, all our work, to the waves?" one asked angrily.

"That problem is left to Mr. Bancroft, Dr. Mortimer."

Lucy whispered to a young woman also on the team. "Who's Mr. Bancroft?"

"See that tall, handsome old guy beside Miklaes? That's Mr. Bancroft. He's a multimillionaire, trades diamonds in Africa, so I heard. He's the one funding the entire project. He used to work for de Beers and then went solo. He's very good with designs they say."

Lucy craned her neck and saw Miklaes talking to a tall man with a shock of snow white hair and beard. He looked every bit a CEO. A businessman. Lucy wondered how many Africans died to make him rich.

"We apologize but for the safety of the entire team, we cannot leave anyone here," said the man with the megaphone. The team groaned and everyone scattered out to gather their belongings. Lucy felt said and disappointed to leave. If the island is reclaimed land, there was a huge possibility that the ocean will claim it again.

Several hours later, the team was on its way out of the island and towards the Inner Hebrides to an island called Tiree. They boarded a plane going back to Glasgow. They stayed in a small hotel. While the rest of the team went with their own friends, Lucy decided to eat some fish and chips on a park bench near the hotel. When a shadow fell over her, she almost ran but realized it was just Ivan Resznik.

"Oh! It's you," she said, relieved. He sat down on the other end of the bench. They did not talk for a while until he broke the ice.

"When your grandfather was in Oxford before the war, he wrote several essays on archaeology and the Celtic culture," he began. "I read them when I was sent to study in Oxford on scholarship in 1991. That's how I came to know your father."

Lucy frowned. "My father taught in Oxford from 1975 to 1991. He died in 1995. I'd say you're about in your late twenties. You would have to be only eleven…"

Lucy stopped in mid-sentence. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You were sent to Oxford when you were only eleven, weren't you?"

Ivan did not answer. Lucy relaxed and sighed. "Sorry for ever doubting your word." So Ivan Resznik was a boy-genius. Nice.

"Your grandfather's treatises taught me many things and so did your father in the short time we knew each other," Ivan continued. "Your grandfather knew Tolkien, did you know that?"

"Well, Tolkien was a famous man. Everyone knew him."

"No, your grandfather knew him well, as well as Lewis and the rest of the Inklings did. They all shared the same passion for history and things make-believe."

Lucy laughed. "So they were a bunch of old men reliving fairy-tales."

Ivan did not laugh. He regarded Lucy with an air of distaste. "They were not just fairy-tales. You would be careful not to dismiss oral history so easily, Miss Diornan. Much of what we know as fairy-stories is grounded in truth. Some people forget truth so quickly, especially if it has gone for ages."

Lucy turned her head to look at Ivan. He was really serious. "You think the bones found at the dig and the mummy you found are not human?"

"No."

"Miklaes seemed afraid of your theory about the pointy ears," she said.

"He is. All his life he wanted to disprove your grandfather and father's theories on the ancient civilization that preceded that of Africa. Finding a corpse that defied the laws of human physiology made a dent in his argument. Miklaes was your grandfather's student in Oxford before the war and your father was Miklaes' student. He could never detract them from their childish notions of elves and ancient human beings far advanced for their counterpart in the Iron Age. There was no Atlantis for Miklaes. No Numenor. He could not fail your father in his class for the simple reason that your grandfather died a hero. It made the old man bitter as hell."

Lucy could not believe that anyone outside the Diornan family could know so much about it, more than she did. "Elves? Numenor? Tell me, then, Mister Resznik, why would Miklaes name the island after one that was a figment of an old British professor's imagination?"

"Miklaes has no control over what is to be done in Numenor," said Ivan. "Everything is controlled by Richard Bancroft, my uncle."

At last, Lucy understood why Miklaes never contradicted Ivan hard enough. Lucy never thought politics ran strong even in archaeological digs. "Well, you're a very lucky man, Mister Resznik, to have an uncle like Mister Bancroft."

"My uncle has his own agenda for funding the dig. Whatever it is could not be good. I know my uncle. He is unscrupulous. He is up to something."

Before Lucy could ask him what that something was, he said, "If you want to know more about who your grandfather was, there is one person still alive who can tell you the truth about his life and his theories. The truth, Miss Diornan, is your quest."

He stood and slowly walked away. Lucy did not know whether to follow after him or stay where she was. Who's to say he was not a psychopath waiting for her to run into his trap? But some outside force pushed her to her feet and run after him so that soon they were walking side by side, seated in the passenger seat of his car, and on their way out of Glasgow to a town called Elvanfoot to the south.


	5. Professor Daley

**Professor Daley**

_ Amharc, mná ag obair lá 's mall san oíc' _"Look, women working by day and late at night,

_ Ceolann said ar laetha geal, a bhí _They sing of bright days that were,

_ Bealach fada anon 's anall a chóich'. _ A long way back and forth forever."

--- Enya, _Ebudae_

The ride was spent in total silence. It was dark outside and it began to rain. The storm was almost upon them. The car radio was on and Lucy listened to the news. All around the world, natural disasters seemed to be sprouting out. Tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, heat waves. Lucy had been so busy with the dig that she had not had the time to see what was happening outside Scotland. She wondered about her mother and Aaron. She decided to call them later.

They arrived in a small town called Elvanfoot. Lucy would have cracked a joke. The place they found themselves in was fitting for the topic of discussion that was soon to commence. When she was little girl, her father would tell her stories of the elves, repeating much of what Tolkien placed in his books. Often, though, he interspersed them with stories that were never part of Tolkien's trilogy nor of the other books he wrote on the subject of Middle-earth. When he died, Lucy read Tolkien's books to find a connection with the father she had for a short time. It was not enough and she turned her search for him by taking up archaeology like he and his father did before him. Whoever this person was who knew her grandfather must be of the same mindset as they were. Lucy braced herself.

Ivan parked the car in front of a small house near the edge of woodland. Smoke billowed from the chimney. They walked up to the front door. Ivan knocked. They waited for a long time before it was opened by a woman slightly older than Lucy. She smiled at Ivan.

"You were gone a long time," she said to him in a thick Scottish accent.

"Work," he replied. "Anne, this is Lucy Diornan."

The woman looked at Lucy and smiled warmly. "Welcome, Miss Diornan! Come in!"

They went in and Anne closed the door behind them. The inside of the house was small, the ceiling low, but the atmosphere was warm and homey. It was very rustic.

"Ivan? Is that you?" came an old woman's voice from near the fireplace.

"Yes, Professor," he replied. "I brought someone with me."

Ivan and Anne exchanged glances. "I'll go and see to my children over at Barney's. Call me if you need anything." With a wave, she wrapped a scarf around her neck and left the house. Ivan walked towards the armchair facing the fireplace. He motioned for Lucy to come closer.

"Professor, this is Lucy Diornan. Lucy, Dianne Daley."

Lucy got a closer look of the woman who was her grandfather's friend. She did not look old, not as old as Lucy expected someone of her grandfather's age should. Her grandfather, if he were alive, would be almost a hundred. The woman's hair was silvery-gray, her eyes a bright green, and her smile was warm and grandmother-like. Lucy liked her instantly. She raised a hand and Lucy took it warmly in hers.

"I waited a long time to see someone from the Diornan family again," she said. Lucy sat down on a low stool, Ivan beside her. "Luthien…"

No one called her Luthien anymore. Not since her father died. The last time she heard it said was weeks ago when Ivan called her by the name. And now, Dianne Daley.

"You and my grandfather were good friends, I was told," said Lucy. She found she was eager to know a lot about her family. She barely knew them, especially the older ones.

Professor Daley nodded a smile on her face. "We were. We were students in Oxford. We both loved history and digging things up from their hiding places. Before the war, we went to Ireland and to Wales. We found out all about the Celts and the Gauls, the Normans and the Vikings. We breathed history, Francis and I. We did not imagine a life without it."

Lucy could imagine her grandfather as a young man. She grinned. "It was his one true passion."

Professor Daley smiled sadly. "Yes, it was. It devoured his very being. It brought him closer to his doom. You know what happened to him?"

Lucy nodded. "He was killed in Auschwitz."

Professor Daley snorted. "Auschwitz? Oh no! He was not killed there. He was killed in Russia."

"What?" Lucy looked at Ivan but he did not give any sign that he knew.

"He was in Auschwitz, yes. Eleanor Pearson went there to see him. When she came back to England, she was with child, with your father, Jacob. I knew nothing about what happened to Francis or Eleanor and their children, Deirdre and Jacob. It was in the 1970s when a man arrived on my doorstep and introduced himself as Jacob Diornan, Francis' son.

"I was overjoyed. Then your father told me the truth. On Eleanor's deathbed, she confessed to having kept the truth from me. When she saw Francis in Auschwitz, the last thing he told her was to come to me and give me all of his research, all his papers, and a letter. I believe your grandmother had been jealous of our friendship and so never came to me as Francis told her to. When Jacob came, he gave me everything his father owned and the letter. It said that he was going to be sent to Russia. He knew he was going to die there because he failed deliberately. If Hitler found out what he did or did not do, he will be killed for nothing. Francis was a hero. Hitler was after a great source of power for him to dominate the world. Your grandfather would never betray the truth to that monster. The letter told me to continue his research as well and to help his son and his son's children. Jacob told me of his desire to teach so I helped him get a teaching post in Oxford where they accepted. No one argued his presence there save for Alexander."

"Alexander?" asked Lucy.

"Miklaes," Ivan helped. Lucy made a silent "Oh!".

"But he was powerless against Francis' contemporaries. Jacob had been a good student in Oxford. He was the son of one of the greatest men in history. He deserved to be where his father was before him. Miklaes was an oaf."

Lucy grinned. "He still is."

Professor Daley nodded. "He could not accept the fact that two of the brightest minds of this age would resort to fairy-tales to support arguments about the rise of another civilization, perhaps the greatest the world will ever know. When Tolkien began publishing his books on the subject, all the more that Miklaes battered down on Francis and Jacob."

"But, Professor, do you really believe it to be true?" asked Lucy. She could understand Miklaes. There were no such things as elves or dwarves or hobbits.

Professor Daley looked into the flames. "When I was a young girl like yourself, Francis took me to his mother's house. It was the first time I saw Beatrix Diornan. She was a fascinating woman. Do you know what we did in their house? She made me recall my past lives—all nine of them."

Lucy edged on her seat. Was this woman in her right mind? Perhaps Ivan had brought her here to give the woman company. If so, he should have just asked her, not deluded her with promises of knowing the truth about her ancestors.

"But only one life lived, the first one, ever struck a chord with me," Professor Daley continued, her eyes closed and a wondrous look on her face. "I went back to a place, an island, where the shores were as white as snow, the sand as fine as powder, and the seas were aquamarine blue, the waves foamy and the gulls flew overhead. I saw a blazing white city of marble and stone and boats fashioned like the beautiful swans that graced the island's lakes. I heard music, lovely music that brought tears to my eyes for it was both sad and joyous. It sang of heroes and heroines, events, great battles and the gods of the world in their glory. I felt peaceful. When the regression ended, Beatrix told me what I was before all the lives I led in the world that came after. I was a daughter of Numenor, daughter of the Dunedain."

Lucy kept her face as serious as possible. She did not want to offend the old woman.

"Ivan has told me of an island that came out of the ocean," she said. "Ulmo never releases land that he has claimed unless there is good reason. The Lord of the Waters hears and knows everything. He must know the disturbances in the world. If this be the Numenor of old, then the Valar are on the move. Dagor Dagorath may be at hand."

Lucy blinked furiously. She was getting bored. The old woman seemed to have felt her doubt and said kindly, "I know it must be difficult for you to accept. You were brought up in a world that knew only the works of Men. Much of the ancient lore is forgotten, remembered only in fantasy stories. Ivan, I think I am thirsty."

Ivan stood and went to get some water. Lucy stood to stretch her legs and walked around the room. Then, on a low table in one corner, she found a dark globe, light swirling within it. She felt drawn to it and peered into its murky depths. She thought she saw something move within it, something sparkled, and then the face of a dog…

"Some things are better kept secret," Ivan said angrily, snatching the globe and hiding it away from Lucy. Lucy saw Professor Daley looking at Ivan.

"Ivan," she said. Ivan turned.

"Give it to her."

Ivan looked from the globe to Lucy to Professor Daley. "Professor…"

"It is hers by right, Ivan. Let her use it as she sees fit," she said, waving a hand towards Lucy. "It was a burden having it here. At least in my old age I can rest. The voices…"

Thunder crackled overhead. The storm was upon them. Ivan handed Lucy the globe and said to the Professor, "I'll see you soon, Professor."

"I know, Ivan." To Lucy, she turned and said, "Luthien, Luthien. Turn away from dark thoughts. They serve you no purpose, only to weaken you in times when you need to be stronger than what you think you are. May the light of the Eldar continue to protect you!"

Lucy kissed her cheek and went out the door while Ivan made a phone call to Anne's. The rain began to pour heavily as Anne arrived.

"Thank you," she said to Ivan. "Visit her often, will you?"

Ivan and Lucy rushed into the car and drove away. Like the trip going to Elvanfoot, the return to the hotel was also spent in silence. Lucy felt the weight of the globe on her lap. She looked down to peer at it but Ivan said, "You would not think of looking into it until you know its purpose."

"Look, I really don't understand what your beef is about this thing!" Lucy burst out. "If you want it, you can have it!"

"Do you know what a _palantir_ is, Lucy Diornan?"

Lucy remembered her father's voice. "A seeing stone. So? You think this is one?"

"I don't think it is because it _is_ the genuine article. What did you see?"

Lucy frowned. She was ready to bash Ivan's head in with it. "Dark. Something sparkled, like a lighter being lighted. A dog…"

She thought she heard Ivan curse under his breath. When they arrived at the hotel, he told her one last thing before disappearing onto his floor.

"I cannot save you in this form. And I don't think I could have anyway in my past one. If anything happens, you must jump into the sea. It is your only recourse."

"Jump into the—Jesus! Are you telling me to kill myself?!" Lucy exclaimed. "But why would I do that?! You think I'll be crazy enough to listen to you?! Hey! I'M STILL TALKING TO YOU! Ivan!"

But Ivan Resznik turned a deaf ear, rushed into an open elevator without saying goodnight and disappeared behind the closing doors.

"Lucy?" She recognized the voice of Bridget Meyer, one of the Scottish researchers on the team, behind her. "Where have the two of you been? And what was that all about?"

Lucy shrugged angrily. "Nothing. I hope I never see that jerk again."

Bridget patted Lucy's shoulder kindly. "Too bad. He oversees the entire team for Bancroft."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "What can I say? The world's a screwed up place." After bidding Bridget a hasty goodnight, Lucy used another elevator and went up to her own room.


	6. Finding Numenor

**Finding Numenor**

_In an hour unlooked for by Men this doom befell, on the nine and thirtieth day since the passing of the fleets. Then suddenly fire burst from the Meneltarma, and there came a mighty wind and a tumult of the earth, and the sky reeled, and the hills slid, and Numenor went down into the sea, with all its children and its wives and its maidens and its ladies proud; and all its gardens and its halls and its towers, its tombs and its riches, and its jewels and its webs and its things painted and carven, and its laughter and its mirth and its music, its wisdom and its lore: they vanished for ever._

---The Downfall of Numenor (Akallabeth), _The Silmarillion _

* * *

The storm came down heavy on Scotland, showing no mercy for both material and living thing. Towns were flooded in, houses caved in with water, rivers were swollen to dangerous levels, people and animals dead from drowning or disease, and plant-life severely damaged. The land was disfigured and maligned. Lucy, watching the television the moment electricity was returned, had never seen so much destruction since the hurricane Katrina in America and the tsunami in Asia. She and the rest of the team were almost reluctant to leave Glasgow after a two-week imprisonment in the hotel. They wanted to help but Bancroft saw fit to remind them—through Miklaes, of course—that they had to focus on their work and were needed in Numenor more.

For the entire two weeks she stayed in the hotel, she did not see much of Ivan Resznik. She decided on that night they took a trip to Elvanfoot to see Professor Daley that she will do all her best to avoid him. She was not really trying. She thought it was the other way around. She saw him less than five times at most. Twice she saw him having lunch with Miklaes and three other archaeologists. Once she saw him with a group of researchers in the lobby. Another time she saw him and John Drummond accompany three technicians to help with the power outage in the hotel.

The last time she saw him was when she got lost, more from thinking too much about work than absentmindedness, and ended up on Ivan's floor. As she rounded a corner trying to find the way back to the elevators, she caught a glimpse of him ahead of her. She did not know what impulse drove her to run after him, almost shouting his name down the corridor had not an old woman and her husband opened their door to go out for dinner. When she reached the place where she saw Ivan, he was gone. She had no idea what room he slept in and was not the kind to go knocking on someone's door, especially someone she disliked.

She remembered now that she felt as if she wanted to ask him something. No, _many_ things. She felt as if he could fill that gap between her awareness of the truth—whatever it was—and the doubt that kept her from recognizing it. For many nights, the story Professor Daley told her about her grandfather bothered her. Lucy understood that to understand her father, she ought to know about her grandfather. Her mother has always emphasized the fact that her husband and father-in-law had the same soul. Francis Diornan died early, before his son could even become a full human being, so that his soul could be transferred to Jacob, thus perpetuating the vicious cycle of their passion for history to death, now being lived by her own daughter of all people. Ivan knew Professor Daley well. Surely he must also know about her grandfather and father and compared to Professor Daley, Ivan did not seem the type to tell her stories about elves and past lives. Then again, he did talk about his past life before he left her that night they went to Elvanfoot…

More than her grandfather's life or Ivan's, Lucy was mystified with the Professor's story about her past life. So much so that Lucy began dreaming of that white island, that paradise of water and mountains that rose majestic out of the sea, where life was never-ending and so was joy and song until the marring of…

Lucy would then wake up before the darkness came to obliterate the light, her body bathed in sweat and her heart filled with an intense sadness and longing that made her weep uncontrollably in the dark. She was thankful she shared the room with no one. The last time she wept like so was the night she found out Tom Bainbridge had been betraying her with another woman. But the emotion that accompanied and lingered after those dreams were so much greater in impact. It felt as if her grief would know no end and all the songs, all the light, all the hope in the world would never cease it. So Lucy would exhaust herself until the wee hours of the morning, just crying and crying. She began to fear sleep and closed her eyes, half-awake, so that her closed eyelids would recognize the coming of the first few rays of the sun. Lucy would be the first one up among the team because she could not stand being in the half-light, half-waking, half-alive. She could not stand crying because it made her even more vulnerable.

To forget her sadness, Lucy studied the research the team has made since a year ago when the island first appeared—or re-appeared. She spent most of her time inside the function room that housed all the artifacts they were allowed to bring out of the island, perusing all the written work done, inspecting each and every object, viewing slides, and discussing these things and various theories with other researchers and archaeologists. Neither Ivan Resznik nor his uncle Richard Bancroft attended these discussions. Miklaes joined the discussions frequently, asserting his own theories that did not hold much water for lack of solid historical evidence.

The Hebrides was once a bastion of the Norwegians. He believed that the artifacts and the bones were of Norwegian origin. A lot of the archaeologists, particularly several historians and anthropologists, disagree on the basis of the difference in art form. The biologists contest the theory mainly because of the atypical skeletal remains. The biochemists and physicists contest the theory because the perfect carbon-dating could predict the age-value of the artifacts and bones to be older than the Iron Age. Lance Norrington, one of the historians, told them that he has studied extensively the Scandinavian culture. There were remnants of that culture found in the island's artifacts but the culture to which those artifacts belonged was independent of that which existed in Europe. Maria Cotrojos, a historian from Mexico, agrees with Norrington.

While the debate raged on and on for those two weeks, Lucy concentrated on finding more about this lost and unknown civilization. It could be and could not be Atlantis. Lucy felt the world was not yet ready for the most mythical of islands to be found. But if this is not Atlantis, what is it? Or, what _was_ it? Where was it? Was this land a stronghold of some sort built on by the Norwegians? The vast collection of armory could support this. But they were not Norwegian or Eastern European in origin. Obviously, a battle had occurred on those shores before the island sunk in the ocean. Weapons lay alongside bones, perhaps belonging to soldiers.

Lucy realized that no one ever saw fit to ask one important question. And in the middle of a very heated debate (more like a word-war) between Miklaes and a senior archaeologist, Lucy stood calmly and asked out loud, "What do the people say?"

Miklaes wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief and glared at her. "What?" The rest of his audience turned their eyes on Lucy. She suddenly felt small but she refused to be daunted, never by Miklaes.

"No one ever bothered to ask what the people say," she said.

Miklaes sneered at her. "Miss Diornan, unless you're blind or obtuse, you would never ask that because the island is, obviously, uninhabited."

There were a few sniggers but Lucy stayed her ground. "Perhaps I should make it clear, Professor, that none of us here ever thought of asking around. Of course there would be no one to ask in Numenor, unless we find there mermaids and the like--"

The group laughed. Miklaes' ears turned red.

"Oral history, Professor. There is Barra and the Inner Hebrides. If you want, you can go even as far as Scottish mainland, Ireland, and Wales for sources."

"Are you suggesting us to make evidence a pack of fairy tales, Miss Diornan?" Miklaes asked mockingly.

"No. I'm suggesting using fairy tales to light our path from which point we dig deeper into the past," Lucy said firmly. "Because that is what we're here for, right? To dig deep into the past?"

The hall was silent, even Miklaes. For his humiliation, he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. The archaeologist with whom he was quarreling with words nodded. So, too, did the people follow him.

"Yes, she has a point," he said to the audience but more to Miklaes who resumed his seat, presumably seething that Lucy, a mere student, bested him. Lucy felt he was angrier with the fact that a Diornan has bested him. Again.

"But the oral histories of Britain and Ireland are vast in both number and scope," John Drummond said. "Lucy does have a strong point but the task is great. This dig is kept secret and so we are few in number."

"Vast in number and scope but sharing the same geographical area," said Norrington. "Some oral histories may vary from one town to the next but the essence of those histories will be the same. A common thread will link them all, especially a relatively small nation such as Britain."

And so from that meeting Lucy went and dug deeper into her work, spending the last three days they had in the hotel to do more research, this time into all sorts of fairy tales. She even went as far as interviewing the hotel staff and going to see their grandmothers and grandfathers. On the last night, another discussion was begun. Everyone knew Lucy was the one with the most research done and so was given her own time to present her findings.

Lucy had only one statement to make, which made Miklaes sputter and walk out of the meeting hall before she could explain, and made Ivan Resznik and Richard Bancroft take notice.

"All of them, from the Scots, to the Irish, to the Welsh—they all shared a common theme. Fairies. Elves."

No one spoke and the silence was like a pall of doom for Lucy. They must all think she was insane but she did not care much. She was a scientist before anything else and her quest, as Ivan put it to her days ago, was the truth. If the world believed that life can exist outside the planet Earth, even if that life did not so much as resemble a human being or an amoeba, then who was anyone to judge her as crazy? True, she was reluctant to believe in elves and the supernatural lot and she _still_ is reluctant. But she was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. Maybe because her ancestors believed it and that same willingness to believe may have found itself down the genetic trail to her. Maybe she was being romantic. Maybe Professor Daley's stories had struck a chord within her and her acknowledgement of her loneliness was like opening a dam of repressed ideas.

Whatever the reason was, Lucy was relieved to tell them the truth. It was what her research turned up. She did not tell them about the elves because she felt it was needed. It was the product of scientific research. No one could fault her for that.

And no one did. Except for Miklaes who walked out of the room without a word to her or anyone. It was Richard Bancroft, a towering figure of a man, old in form but undiminished in stature, who came up to her. There was in him, Lucy felt the moment he stood in front of her, a great power and charm. He looked more than a CEO up close. Lucy felt she was looking up at a god albeit one who controlled everything.

"Now there are three of us," he said, smiling benevolently at Lucy as he stretched out a hand and shook hers. His voice had a languid tone. Even the feel of his hand was like power going through Lucy's skin and veins. She felt heady, almost seduced. She saw herself as a falling star streaking across the dark sky and plummeting into an even darker and more mysterious earthly landscape. Lucy did not feel like herself. She shook her head, more to clear her head than to disagree. But disagree she did after he let go of her hand.

"I am not entirely of the theory that mythical beings such as elves are real, Mister Bancroft," she told him up right. "But I am also open to theory, whatever that theory may be. Archaeology, after all, is about finding out the truth where there was none, not finding it because there already was truth."

Bancroft chuckled and glanced knowingly at his nephew who was standing by the doorway. "I think, Miss Diornan, that you are by far the only one among all these distinguished men and women who has impressed me. What you said is true, a fact forgotten by most of us in this profession."

"Oh? You are an archaeologist yourself, Mister Bancroft?" she asked curiously.

"I trade in diamonds, Miss Diornan, if you didn't know, and that often requires me to do a lot of digging myself," he replied, grinning. To the audience he said, "Tomorrow at daybreak we leave Glasgow and head back to Numenor. There is a lot more work to do, cleaning up the storm's damages more importantly. Let us conclude this meeting for today. Good day, ladies and gentlemen."

While the team filed out of the room, Bancroft told Lucy, "I know you've been working harder than most, Miss Diornan. I know that you're Miklaes' student and among his best. I requested him to include his best student in the team and I see he has not failed me. Ivan has told me about you and the work you've done both here and in Harvard. The day after tomorrow I am assigning you to begin an expedition to the western side of the island." Bancroft called out one of the senior archaeologists and one of the historians to him. The archaeologist, Charles McReidgh, a former classmate of John in Oxford, was a thirty-seven year old man with sandy-blonde hair, well-built, with a weather-beaten face and a jolly disposition. Lucy often saw him exchanging jokes with John and their colleagues. He was also very gay. As in, _queer_. The historian was Maria Cotrojos, a young thirty-year old Mexican woman, recently graduated from her master's degree in European history.

"Charles, Maria, I need you to begin work on the western side of the island the day after we arrive in Numenor," he told them. The look on their faces was one of delight. "I want Miss Diornan to accompany you there."

"Yes, that would be no problem, Mister Bancroft," said Charles. Maria nodded.

Turning to Lucy, Bancroft said, "Whatever you find there you can study first. A reward for a job well done, Miss Diornan." He nodded once to her and Charles and Maria, and then approached Ivan who was still waiting for him by the doorway. Ivan did not even look at her but went out of the room beside his uncle. Charles punched the air excitedly.

"Amazing! You have just given me the time of my life, Lucy," he said happily. Maria, not given to outward displays of joy, rolled her eyes but was smiling at Lucy.

"It is lucky that Bancroft has taken a liking to you, Lucy," she said. "Bancroft is a difficult man to please. It is the reason why Miklaes is always so cranky."

Lucy kept herself from saying that _cranky_ has always been Miklaes' demeanor, with or without Bancroft. She smiled back and sighed. "I've always wondered about that side of the island."

"Well now the three of us are given the opportunity," Charles said.

Lucy nodded. But a dark thought crept into her mind. She suddenly felt unsafe.

_Some things are better kept secret_.

Now where has she heard that before? Lucy could not remember but she did feel unsafe and suddenly, very susceptible to anything and everything.

_I'm about to find out something that I might hate,_ she thought with acute terror. Lucy quickly banished the terrible thought from her mind. She must stay positive. Whatever it is, even if it finally proves the existence of elves, she must have an open mind. _An open mind is the key to understanding_.

Now that she heard before. From her father.

* * *

The day they were back to Numenor was both disheartening and exciting. Disheartening because much of the work they've done have been washed away or buried under mud. The team had to go and clean the mess, digging again under the debris and sludge to recover the bones and artifacts they left behind. Another smaller section of the team set up the tents and unloaded their machinery and personal things. Everyone felt excited to resume their work. More importantly, Lucy and her small team were brimming with excitement and anticipation.

Lucy did not talk to Bancroft again. He was not with them when they left Glasgow and headed for Numenor. Early in second morning in Numenor, it was Ivan who briefed Lucy, Charles, and Maria. Lucy was a little surprised that he was finally letting her hear his voice and see his face again. But he was not talking directly to her anyway. He was talking to the three of them and the two guides.

"No one has begun digging or exploring the western shore of the island," he said, laying out a map of the island on a table in one of the tents. Lucy and the rest of the group looked on. "The terrain is safe. I had the west checked yesterday by helicopter to see if there has been any landslides. They found none but it will be safer to bring along Susan and Vin. After the storm, we don't know if the terrain has become slippery or weaker. If it rains, it will be safer to have experienced climbers with you."

Lucy looked at Susan and Vin, two mountain climbers who were experienced with helping out archaeologists who had no training in climbing steep slopes and mountain walls. They were both large people. And muscular. Lucy tried not to giggle at the look of wonder on Charles' face.

"How long will it take for us to reach the west?" asked Maria.

"Last we checked, five hours' worth of walking and two hours' worth of climbing up and down," replied Vin. Lucy felt her heart sink. "But we're faster climbers and we did not have the tools you carry."

"So how long will it take for all of us to get there?" asked Lucy this time. She knew she ought to be prepared to walking long, long hours.

"A total of maybe nine to ten hours," said Susan, smiling apologetically at Lucy. "Given the present state of the island after the storm. We cannot be sure exactly. We'll have to camp along the way."

"I've talked to Mister Bancroft and you will be given a week to camp there," said Ivan, handing each of them walkie-talkies. Lucy noted how he said "Mister Bancroft" instead of "Uncle". "The lines of communication between you and us must be kept open. This island is still largely unknown and we do not want anyone to be put in danger if there's any."

"Don't worry, we'll keep them safe," assured Vin. Ivan nodded.

"Good. Let's start loading into the truck. I'll drive you until Earendil's Pass."

Ivan left the tent, followed by Vin, Susan, and a bright-eyed Charles.

"Wow, that was quick," remarked Maria. "Strange fellow."

"Who?"

Maria bent down to pick up her backpack. She slung it over her shoulder. "Resznik, Bancroft's nephew."

Lucy agreed. "He is."

Maria raised an eyebrow. Lucy frowned. "What?"

Maria stared at her for a few seconds and then frowned back. "You think he's strange?"

"Yes…why shouldn't I?"

"Aren't the two of you…"

Lucy stared at Maria. And then exclaimed, "Oh my God! No! Never! Never was! Jesus! Where did that come from?!"

Maria shrugged, embarrassed. "It's been circulating around since Glasgow."

"Since Glasgow…"

"Well, a lot of people saw you and him driving out of Glasgow one night and then the two of you didn't come back until very late." Maria went to Lucy and hugged her. "I'm sorry, Lucy, if it's not true. Just forget I said anything."

Lucy sighed although she was a little annoyed. The last time anyone gossiped about her was when Tom was reputedly panting after a literature freshman. She did not believe the stories. She found out the truth for herself instead. And what a truth that was.

"It's okay," she told Maria, slinging her own backpack on her shoulder. "I'm used to it."

"Okay."

The two women left the tent and went to the waiting truck with Ivan behind the passenger seat. She sat at the back along with all the equipment. The bumpy ride to Earendil's Pass, a small carved tunnel, took almost an hour. During the ride, Lucy caught glimpses of the blue sea and a feeling of yearning filled her soul. The road, although bumpy, was bordered on both sides by young trees. Skeletal remains of large fish littered the ground. The road was still a bit muddy. A small stream, where there was none before according to Susan and Ivan, flowed beside the road.

The truck stopped and everyone got out. Lucy found herself staring up at an archway leading into a dark tunnel. The archway, made of cold black granite chipped in many areas, was huge, its keystone carved with a faded and flattened image Lucy could not decipher. The archway's support, the stone buttresses, was also carved with many symbols. Maria quickly whipped out a brush and a magnifying glass, and bent to peer at them.

"Strange," she said, brushing at one point. "Charles! Familiar to you?"

Charles looked at the symbols but even he had no idea. "I may have seen them before but I'm not sure. They look somehow familiar. Arabic, maybe?"

Lucy stayed a safe distance from the archway, Ivan beside her. They did not ask her but she has seen them before. Anyone who has read Tolkien's books would surely recognize them. Perhaps, even read them—Quenya, language of the High Elves. And, as if she was back on her father's lap, her father's voice in her ear, she whispered, "Here you stand before Earendil's Pass, the path carved by the Atani, with the aid of the Eldar, into the Caverns of Aule."

Ivan turned his head to look at her but said nothing. No one else heard Lucy speak. Susan exhaled loudly and said, "All right! It's best that we get moving now if we want to get to the campsite before lunch."

They unloaded the truck and divided their load. Being the smallest and youngest, Lucy carried only her backpack, a water jug, and the cooking utensils. She smiled to herself. Now she knew how Samwise Gamgee felt carrying all those pots and pans.

"The flares?" Ivan asked Vin. Vin patted his backpack.

"All here, Ivan."

"Good. I'll be seeing you in a week."

Vin led the group, followed by Charles, Maria, Lucy, and Susan bringing up the rear. Lucy glanced back and saw Ivan standing, watching them leave. She brought a hand up to wave goodbye but they were already inside the tunnel now and he did not see. Hoisting her pack up for comfort, Lucy turned her eyes forward, flicked open the flashlight in her hand, and began her journey into the mountain.


	7. Stranger Things

**Stranger Things **

_God has no power over the past except to cover it with oblivion_. ---Pliny the Elder

* * *

Lucy glanced at her watch. It has been two hours since they entered the tunnel and it seemed endless. Lucy should have expected it and more after staying underwater for centuries. Who knows how many of the diverse marine life in the world swam through the same paths they were walking on now? Lucy imagined the giant squid and shivered. The walls were limestone, according to the geological reports back in the main camp. The air was cool inside, yes, but there was a problem. The dark smelled fishy literally and she realized she must have stepped on hundreds of marine life trapped within the space when the island began its rise to the surface. Lucy thought it was disgusting and no matter where she pointed her flashlight, she saw dead fish and a lot of algae. 

"At least you're not wearing new shoes," Maria said, her voice nasal as she tried to speak without breathing through her nose. She gagged every few seconds.

"Didn't you bring your old pair?" Lucy asked, daring to breathe. Fishy, stinky. Rotting dead meat. Anytime soon, if the flies get wind of this feast, the entire tunnel and mountain would be infested by them and their maggots.

"I did but I'd rather have one pair smelling like the wet market than two," replied Maria.

The four of them continued their walk down the dark tunnel. Then, Vin at the front stopped.

"Vin?" Susan asked from behind Lucy. Lucy, who had uncannily good eyesight even in the dark, saw Vin, followed by Charles, going back up towards them.

"What's up?"

"I almost forgot what Bancroft said," he told them. "This tunnel is largely unexplored. We already missed a great distance from the archway. Mister Bancroft said to let the archaeologists do their stuff in the tunnel first. We'll stop here first."

Maria sighed and coughed. "Fish or no fish, then. Gotta go to work."

No one placed their backpacks down on the tunnel floor for fear of having fish grime sticking to their stuff. So Lucy took out two brushes and went towards one wall. Charles went to the other side with Vin, of course. Susan and Maria was somewhere to Lucy's left. A cold breeze entered the tunnel, disturbing the stagnant air. Lucy made a gagging sound.

"You all right?" Susan asked.

"Sure. Just the smell." Standing upright the smell was not so bad because it lingered on the ground. But when you're squatting on the floor, the smell was unbearable.

"Yeah. Reminds me of the bogeyman."

Maria laughed. Lucy saw that she has taken to wearing a surgical mask. "I didn't know the bogeyman smelled."

Susan laughed, too. "Yeah, he does have a smell. Every child has a bogeyman, my mother kept telling me. What's yours?"

"I'm Mexican so the devil is my special bogeyman," replied Maria. Lucy smiled, brushing the wall before her.

"Now that's scary," said Susan. "And you, Lucy? You're young. You must remember when you were a kid."

The truth was, Lucy did not have much of a childhood. Not after her father died, at least. When he was gone from their lives, Lucy withdrew from everyone. She vaguely remembered feeling otherworldly, as if she did not exist anymore. She attributed it to grief but it was not an ordinary grieving experience like the one her mother and brother showed. It felt so superficial, even the small amount of tears she shed. And it was only because her mother was crying so hard that she felt pity move her heart. Lucy tried to forget those feelings because she felt so sinful. Her father died and she felt close to nothing. It felt as if she knew what was coming and that her father's death was to be expected.

"Hey, Lucy," Susan said, staring at her. Lucy's brush hovered a few centimeters from the wall as she stood staring before her. "You oka—wow! Hey, guys! Come over here!"

Lucy was pulled out of her reverie when Charles' backpack bumped into her shoulder as he tried to get a closer look at Lucy's wall. "Lucy, for a newbie, you are amazing!"

But Lucy did not know what she was doing the entire time. All she could think about was her father and how little she felt for him. "W-What?"

Vin, who carried a bigger flashlight, turned it on to the wall. Lucy's eyes widened. What looked like an embossed image of a swan was sticking out of the wall. Charles began brushing around the image. Lucy and Maria helped him and many minutes later, all five of them were staring at the lower half of carved stone door. Around the embossed figure of a swan with outstretched wings were carvings of people armed with sword, spears, and shields. Above the head of the swan was a pencil-like drawing, which, on closer inspection looked like a tower with light beams extending from its pinnacle to the far edges of the door.

"The only other place I've seen this kind of stuff was in Egypt," Charles said, brushing the surface of the swan's body. "Look at the way all the soldiers are lined up."

Maria nodded. "It looks like some sort of bas relief."

Lucy placed her face closer to the door, her eyes riveted to the soldiers' faces. They had helms on their heads, with horns sticking out at the sides…

"The armor looks Viking to me," Maria said.

But Lucy saw something else. They did not look like horns. They looked like ears—

Charles, who wore a pair of latex gloves, touched the door. "It is a door, isn't it?"

Maria snapped her gloves on. "It looks like one. It has a jamb. Look." She pointed to one side of the door. There was about an inch wide space.

"But a door must have a knob to be opened, right?" asked Vin.

"Sliding doors open but they don't have knobs," Susan pointed out.

Lucy put on her gloves. Charles and Maria began touching every inch of the surface of the door.

"Good thing I remembered Bancroft's instructions," Vin muttered, raising the light higher.

Maria sighed. "No. No way of opening this thing."

"It could be a false door," suggested Charles.

Maria shook her head and removed her gloves, followed by Charles. "Maybe. We can always come back to this site. Let's just document." Charles took out his camera and began clicking. When they were done, Vin and Charles walked ahead with Maria trudging behind them. Lucy removed her gloves, sad that they could not find out more about the door. Unthinkingly, she touched the swan with her bare hand. Cold air gushed out from somewhere beneath her feet. She thought she heard voices and the clink of metal behind the wall. Scared, she took her hand away and followed after Maria, with Susan just behind her.

* * *

The group spent many more hours than was scheduled inside the tunnel, not missing a single spot or wall. There were about ten more doors like the first but they would not open. Charles took pictures of them while Maria wrote her observations in her small notebook. Lucy stayed silent, working with her brush but never again touching anything with her bare hands. She thought she might disturb something she was not supposed to. Maybe Susan's story about the Bogeyman got to Lucy.

"We left the main camp at seven in the morning," Charles said after glancing at his watch. "It's now past noon. We can have lunch now."

But no one wanted to have lunch inside the tunnel. "How far are we from the exit?" asked Maria.

"According to satellite readings, this tunnel goes about nine to ten kilometers more," answered Susan, checking into one of her GPS gadgets. "We've covered around five."

"It's still a long way to go," Charles said.

Lucy, who was facing towards the end of the tunnel, said, "Have you noticed that it doesn't smell as fishy here as back there?"

They all looked at Lucy and sniffed.

"Yeah, it's not as fishy," said Maria. "But maybe we've gotten a little used to it…"

"But it is salty," Vin added, licking his lips. "It smells like we're close to sea."

"If you smell salt, then we are closer to sea," said Susan, frowning. "But we're still a long way from the exit."

"Tunnels can have many entrances and exits," suggested Lucy. "Maybe there's another way out of here."

"If there is, then let's take that way," Charles said eagerly. "We can go back from the other end when we're done. Our main priority here is establishing a camp west of the main camp."

The group concurred and they walked towards the source of the salty air. Lucy smiled. Maria saw her smile and asked why.

"When I was a little girl, my father told me the story of hobbits and elves and dwarves. When the Fellowship of the Ring was trapped inside the dwarf kingdom of Moria, they had to follow their noses to find the way. Much like we're doing now."

"Actually, I haven't read the books but I did see the movie," said Maria. She was walking behind Lucy now as the tunnel became narrower and the ceiling lower. "Are the books really that good?"

Lucy nodded. "I read them all and all their supplements. I guess you can say I was reared on the lore."

Maria smiled. "Well, your grandfather and father were known for it. I was in Oxford several months ago to do some research about the Hebrides. I came across several books and essays with your surname on them."

Their conversation was cut short when the faint glimmer of light appeared at the end of the pathway. Maria and Lucy grinned at each other and walked faster. The light grew and grew until they were all enveloped in it. Lucy opened her eyes as she stood outside the tunnel, taking in the sight before her. She was high up on the mountain, looking out at a wide expanse of deep blue sea. The air was salty and fresh, a complete relief after the dank and fishy smells inside the tunnel. The shore was not yet visible but it did not matter so much. The preview to what possibly awaited when they come down the mountain was beautiful. There was not much woodland owing to the fact that the island was submerged in water for a very long time. Lucy saw low hills grown green at their peaks after more than a year out of water. She could not wait to see down below.

"All right, here's what we do," Vin began, nodding to Susan who was strapping herself into her harness. "Susan goes down first to check the field. If it's clear, then we all can follow. Charles, you'll have to follow after her."

After securing the ropes, Susan began rappelling down the side of the mountain. They all waited for close to thirty minutes. Vin talked into his walkie-talkie. "Susan? Come in, Susan."

There was a few seconds of static then Susan's warped voice came through. "Susan here, over."

"What's your status? Over."

"Good. The place is clear. Over."

Vin nodded to Charles. When Charles was strapped in and secure, he began to rappel after Susan. It was Lucy's turn next. She has never rappelled before but she tried to contain her fear. She did not want the others to think she was a coward. Besides, going through dangerous experiences was part of being an archaeologist. If her mother knew what she was doing now, hanging down the side of a mountain when any mistake can lead to her death, she would freak out.

It took Lucy almost an hour to go down the mountain. When she got down, she immediately looked around. There was not much to see, only hills overgrown with weeds and grass. Birds flew above them. At least, she thought, the island is slowly coming to life. Minutes later, Maria and then Vin arrived. When all the ropes have been counted, checked, and stored, Vin led the group again. They walked around the foot of the mountain for many minutes, Lucy looking this way and that.

She imagined this island in its early days, before it sunk beneath the sea. Maybe the Norwegians did inhabit this island, a small kingdom that had its own culture, similar to their origins but quite different as explained by their varied art form and weaponry. Lucy saw in her mind's eye the island's prime, with a king that sat on a golden throne housed within a stone castle, its towers tall with flags that flew on its turrets; large ships that sailed from its shores to Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, their sails immense and painted with the symbols of their warriors and princes; of beautiful women walking the city streets, or bathing in the sea, or taking their children to school or to shop in the market, which would be overflowing with food and all sorts of nice things. This island had its own civilization, secluded in location, bounded on all corners by the great sea.

But otherwise unprotected, Lucy thought sadly. Something happened before the island sank into the sea. She noticed that the scattered weapons and armor were too close to the ground surface. If a battle occurred a long time before the sinking of the island, the weapons would have been found deeper. Lucy believed strongly that a battle may have occurred but until they find evidence of injury among the bones, they could not be entirely sure.

If there was a battle, what happened after? Why did this island sink?

There were no volcanoes anywhere near the island, no underwater ones. Rarely did earthquakes occur here and if so, it was quite impossible for such of their kind to sink a relatively large island such as this.

"Right! This is where we have to camp for the day," she heard Vin say from the front. Lucy was relieved to be divested of her heavy backpack and the pots and pans.

"Ah! Time for lunch!" Charles said happily, taking the cooking utensils from Lucy. Charles offered to do the cooking and told Maria and Lucy they could do their own thing for a while.

"Don't go too far," Susan cautioned them.

Maria shook her head as she plopped down onto a mound of soft grass. She removed her shoes, grimaced when she saw the grime, and said, "I think I'd rather take this time to rest. I'm a historian, for goodness' sake! My feet weren't made for climbing mountains."

Lucy and Susan gave each other knowing looks. "Well, I'm a bit restless. I'll go look around." Lucy brought her walkie-talkie, checked the reception with Susan, also brought a camera, and then grabbed her belt bag with all the tools of her trade. She climbed a low hill and wished she could see more of the sea from there. When she could no longer hear their voices, Lucy went down the hill and around it. She took pictures of the landscape and was having the time of her life when something rustled behind her. Lucy turned around and saw a large white seagull perched on a large boulder. Lucy stared at the huge bird, forgetting her fear of large birds. She went to the zoo once and an eagle tried to bite off her hand. She never recovered from the incident.

The seagull inclined its head, as if regarding her with curious bird eyes. Then it flapped its wings causing Lucy to step back quicker than her body could adjust and ended up falling to the ground on her bottom.

"Ow!" she moaned, rubbing her underside. "What was that for?!"

The seagull squawked. Lucy thought it was trying to tell her something. "What?" she asked only as a joke to herself.

The seagull squawked a second time. The sky darkened. Lucy blinked and the next moment, the whole boulder and its surroundings was covered with seagulls, all of them watching her.

"This is freaking me out," Lucy muttered. She began backing away. The seagulls edged towards her. Lucy prayed they would not attack her. They were so many! Only good sense prevented her from screaming her lungs out for rescue. She was trapped between the boulder and all those seagulls and the hill's wall behind her. There was no room to back into. And so she did the next best thing, flapped her arms as wildly as she could, scattering the seagulls, and ran down the other side of the hill. She ducked and covered her head. When they were all gone, Lucy stood and slowly went back. The seagulls were gone, all right. Lucy looked at the boulder. Something was different about it.

She went closer. There were minute carvings into the stone's surface. Lucy brushed the surface but the markings were too faint to decipher. She took some pictures and walked around the boulder. She knelt on the ground beside it. There were also the remainder of carvings but they were in the same condition as those she found at the front. Lucy stood and walked several yards in many directions, always coming back to the boulder and then branching out. When a good number of minutes passed, Lucy decided to rest. She climbed up the boulder. The sun shone high and Lucy brought a hand up to shield her face. Her hand did not find its way to her eyes because the second Lucy tilted her chin up, she saw one of the most spectacular sights she has seen. From where she stood Lucy saw a wide expanse of green land on which stood stony ruins.

Lucy was halfway across the green when her walkie-talkie crackled into life.

"Yes?" she spoke into the gadget.

"Lucy? Food's arrived. Over." It was Susan.

"Okay. I'll be right there." Lucy groped for the word, then said, "Over!"

She looked back at the ruins. She wanted to go but the others would be worried. Sighing, Lucy began her way back to their camp. She can explore later.

"Hey!" Maria called out, her hands holding two plates of food. She handed one to Lucy as she sat down next to Maria on a blanket they spread on the ground. "Where have you been?"

"Somewhere out there," replied Lucy, flashing Charles an OK sign for the food. Charles grinned back. "I found ruins."

Charles looked at her. "Oh! You've seen it. A year ago, Bancroft had a helicopter flying around the island. They took pictures of it."

Lucy did not ask why she was not shown these pictures and why none of them were in the archives. Charles seemed to have read her mind and added, "He didn't want the pictures lying around. You know, discovering the ruins of a castle or anything that people lived in could cause mayhem."

"You were in the helicopter, too?" asked Maria.

"Yes. Bancroft and Resznik, and Miklaes. There was a geographer with us but he's on vacation right now."

Lucy swallowed her food. "So, what did you think?"

Charles shrugged. "It could be the ruins of a castle or a community. Being buried underwater can damage a lot of things. We aren't sure if those large rocks have been there since the beginning or if the water current washed them from some other place and deposited them there."

Lucy nodded. "Yes, that could be plausible."

"Don't worry. The ruins are our topmost priority for the next three days," said Charles. "After all, we're going to have to cross them if we're to get to the western border and the sea. We're just going to do a preliminary survey and get all the information we can get. When we have presented our findings to Bancroft and Miklaes, then we can go again for a more detailed examination."

The idea of going to the sea made Lucy feel intoxicated with gladness. It was a feeling much more than irrational joy. She could not understand it and she would never say it to anyone.

"After we get all these things checked, we can start immediately," he told them.

The group finished their late lunch and then went in the direction Lucy followed. Standing on the hill, Maria nodded approvingly. "Good!"

They all came down the hill and walked across the plain towards the scattered groups of large, black rocks. They were taller than six feet and surrounded by thin blades of grass and weeds. The ground was also littered with wildflowers. The first find of the day was a stroke of luck. Charles tripped over something. When he bent to look at it, it was the hilt of a sword sticking out. After taking pictures, he began to dig around the perimeter of the hilt, taking care not to injure the artifact and end up damaging it completely.

Lucy and Maria took separate stones, each one larger than themselves. The stones were tall and thick and Maria measured them occupying a 1.3-square meter area each. Lucy was small at 5 feet 2 inches and she largely blamed her mother for the genes. Aaron and Aunt Deirdre's twins were six feet and more. Her father was also tall. Lucy was the only one in her family to have the misfortune of being vertically challenged.

She began working on the stone and after many minutes of gentle brushing, the rough surface began to give way to a smoother one, proving that this was not the work of nature but the work of man. To prove that the stone is actually a huge stone slab would be difficult, however, because the ocean water has severely eroded the edges. When Lucy was done, she stepped back and surveyed her work. Not bad, she thought. But it would be better if she could just reach higher…

"It sucks when you have to scale tall stuff," she heard Charles say behind her. She turned and saw that he finished digging out the sword. It was now wrapped in plastic and lying on a newspaper beside the spot where it was dug.

"It is," she said. Then, Charles suggested that he could carry her up to the top on his shoulders.

"You'll cramp," she said worriedly.

"Well, you have skill and you're fast so I'm not that worried. Besides, this would put to test what I've accomplished from going to the gym six times a week before coming here," he said with a grin. Lucy laughed and said "Okay." So she sat on Charles' shoulders and latched herself onto the wall.

"Ready?" asked Charles.

"Ready!"

Lucy stood on Charles' shoulders and pulled herself up to stand on the top of the stone.

"If you're feeling vertigo, just sit down and then jump and I'll catch you!" Charles yelled.

"I'm fine!" Lucy yelled back. "Nice view!"

And it was a nice view. She did not realize it before but the ruins were closer to the sea than the hill with the seagulls. She could sea the beach now, pure white sand in the afternoon light, with large boulders and rocks scattered, the waves breaking upon them. Then she looked down at the spot where she was standing. The top of the stone was not level but hollowed, and her feet was surrounded by a thick outgrowth of grass and flowers. Then, something moved on her shoes. Lucy froze in fear as the form of a snake slithered on top of her feet and then went around her in circles. With shaking hands, she brought the walkie-talkie to her lips.

"C-Charles?"

Charles spoke. "Lucy? Over."

"Charles, there's a snake on top of the stone I'm working on. O-over."

"What?! Jesus…don't move! Over!" Maria and Vin came over at the sound of Charles' voice.

"N-No. I'm still as a stone," she said, her eyes watching the snake as it continued to crawl slowly around and around her legs. The skin was cold and not slimy. She could feel the scales rubbing her skin. All the hairs on Lucy's body stood. The snake had a triangular shaped head and was colorful, enough proof that this was a poisonous creature and one that could kill Lucy.

_Please, don't bite me_, she said in her mind. _Please._

Miraculously, the snake slithered away from her and crawled down the back of the stone. When it was gone, Lucy quickly scanned the grass but there were no other snakes around.

"Lucy?" Charles yelled.

"It's gone now! It crawled down the back!"

"Would you be all right now?" Maria asked. "Make sure there aren't any snake holes or burrows!"

"No, there's nothing! I'll be all right!"

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah!"

When all was quiet again, Lucy inspected the walls. Then she turned her attention to the earth at her feet. As she scraped and scraped, she began to unearth what looked like a piece of cloth. She brushed around it and saw that it was a piece of fabric, brown and muddy. She removed the caked mud and took several pictures. She could not completely unearth the fabric, however. It held on fast to the ground. So Lucy dug around it and in so doing, loosened the earth and sent everything crumbling inward. Lucy screamed but was able to hang on to the walls.

Her companions ran towards her. "Lucy!" they called out. All they could see of her now were her gloved fingers clutching onto the edges of the wall.

She could not talk to them by way of radio lest she remove one of her anchoring hands and fall to her death. When the fabric and earth fell, she thought it took five seconds or more before she heard the sound of earth and stone crashing to the ground. There was also the sound of heavy iron or steel dropping to the floor. So Lucy screamed. "I'm hanging above a deep hole!"

"Hold on! Vin's coming!"

A minute later, Lucy was being pulled up by Vin over the wall. Charles and Maria caught her down below. She collapsed to the ground, her face dirty and her hands stiff. Maria wiped the grime from Lucy's face. Vin radioed back to Susan, telling her they were going to abort the dig because of Lucy's accident.

"What happened?" Maria asked. "First the snake and then this."

Lucy coughed. After a harrowing experience, Lucy would always feel the urge to cough. Sometimes, she vomits. "I don't know. I was scraping the ground and there was a piece of fabric sticking out. I took a picture and then started digging around it. I made sure the ground was stable…but it wasn't."

Charles ran a hand through his hair. "Lucky that you managed to grab the wall."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble or delay…"

Maria patted her shoulder. "No problem, Lucy. Our concern is everyone's safety always."

Vin walked over to them. "Did you break anything?"

Lucy was going to be damned if she was going to admit her hands felt like they were broken in pieces. "No, I'm fine. I just had a scare."

"Okay. But we're going to have to go back to camp for today," he said. "There really is a hole inside that rock and I think it is safer to assume that the rest of them sticking out of the ground would also be hollow. So we won't be climbing over them until Mister Bancroft sends more people up here."

Everyone agreed although a secret part of Lucy wanted to go down there now.

They all went back to camp and Susan fretted over Lucy like her mother. Lucy was torn between frustration and amusement.

"So, what exactly happened?" Susan asked. Charles, Vin, and Maria went back to the ruins.

Lucy shrugged. "Honestly, I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. All these strange things happening to me one after the other."

"Well, it's not uncommon for archaeologists to encounter snakes or to fall down pits they had no idea were there," said Susan.

"I guess not. But there were things before that…" Lucy stopped. Why was she telling Susan?

"What things?"

Lucy bit her lip. It won't hurt to tell someone. After all, it's only Susan.

"Before, when we were in the tunnel. Remember the door I found? I touched it."

"We all did."

"Yeah but you all had your gloves on," said Lucy. "I removed mine at the last minute and I touched it. The door, I think, opened a little. It moved. There was air rushing out of the slits. I thought I even heard the sound of metal clanking and voices behind it. And then discovering that other exit out of the tunnel. How did I know that? When I went out earlier I almost got attacked by a flock of seagulls but they didn't. they were just watching me. It felt like they were telling me something. Then there's this thing about the snake and the hole. In my head, I wished for it not to hurt me and the snake went away. And the hole. I feel strongly that I was meant to discover it. I a little frustrated right now that they won't let me back out there. How long will it take Bancroft to send equipment here to take a look down under? I think I'm going crazy."

While Lucy said all these Susan watched and listened. When Lucy was finished, Susan said, "You are not the first young archaeologist to feel these things, Lucy. I've been in the business of guiding people in your profession up, down, and into mountains. There are far stranger things in this world, Lucy. Don't be too worried. Maybe someday we'll find the answers. It is too early to go seeking them out now that this expedition is still young. This can go on for many years. What was it that you people say all the time? Ah! _The last function of reason is to recognize that there are an infinity of things which surpass it_. I think it was some math guy who said that. But I never forgot it or what it meant. "

Lucy realized Susan was right. Strange things do happen that reason or logic would never be able to explain. Yet it was pointless to keep being disturbed by them. Maybe she was just getting into the heat of things. She has always wanted to be an archaeologist; she was always interested in the past. She should accept that many surprises and sacrifices will happen in her journey. She should worry about them when they're there.

"You know, Susan, you should have become an archaeologist," Lucy said. Susan laughed.

"Maybe I should have. But I'll give Miklaes a run for his money and that would be the end of the world!"

Lucy and Susan cracked up in laughter and went on to trade more light-hearted stories that for the meantime, Lucy forgot her desire for the sea and the nagging feeling that she was standing on top of the answer to her questions about the past.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hi! Thanks for reviewing! This chapter is quite long, I know and underwent so many revisions. I already wrote the 10th or 11th chapter and I'm trying to bridge the events from here to there. Please have patience! I will update and won't leave the story hanging forever!

**Author's Problem: **I don't understand how the whole html thing works. I can't make the paragraphs have tabs, like the standard in writing paragraphs is supposed to. Help!


	8. HistoryHerstory

**HISTORY/HERSTORY**

Political history is far too criminal and pathological to be a fit subject of study for the young. Children should acquire their heroes and villains from fiction. ---W.H. Auden, _A Certain World_

* * *

It was almost 7 in the evening when Vin, Charles, and Maria came back from the ruins. While they were gone, Lucy and Susan got to know each other better by exchanging stories. An hour before Charles and the rest arrived, Lucy and Susan began to prepare the tents and the food. All the other three had to do when they came back was get their plates and eat. No one spoke while they all ate. Lucy realized they must be exhausted from their first day and after she gave them all a scare, Lucy felt even guiltier. Vin was the first to finish and set up his laptop to a disc antenna. After several minutes, he managed to connect to the main camp. 

"Vin!" the technician exclaimed, grinning through the screen. "How're you man?"

"Good," Vin replied. "Sorry we only had time to connect now."

"No problem, man." Then, the man whispered, "Miklaes has been asking about you and your group."

"Is he there?" Maria asked aloud.

The man looked around him. "Not at the moment."

Maria rolled her eyes. "Good. We're not in the mood to get whacked by that man." Charles hushed her up. Lucy stifled a giggle.

Vin said, "Nice to talk to you, Larry, but I need to have a word with Ivan."

Lucy, who had a good view of the laptop screen, discreetly stood and walked to her tent. No doubt the main camp will be informed of her near brush with death. Almost 30 minutes later, she saw Vin rise from his seat and prepare his sleeping bag. When Lucy got up to relieve herself, he approached her, an apologetic look on his face.

"I hate to put a damper to your day, Lucy. I know you've been through a tough time today but the main camp needed to be informed. They want you to go back."

Lucy felt as if her entire world crashed around her but she stood her ground. "Am I leaving tomorrow?"

Vin surprised her by shaking his head. "No, not tomorrow. They cannot spare a helicopter for the next week or so. But I did receive instructions that you will have to stay in camp. I'm sorry, Lucy."

She tried not to sulk and forced a grin to her face. "Well, it was to be expected. Safety first."

Vin sighed, relieved that he probably did not have to contend with stormy female emotions right now. Lucy sighed deeply and did her nightly ritual before going to bed. When she was finished, she went back to her tent. Charles was talking to the laptop now. Lucy found Susan already bundled up and snoring.

"If she didn't have breasts I'd be inclined to think _she_ was a _he_," Maria whispered from behind her. Lucy stepped aside and let Maria pass.

Lucy giggled softly and sat down on her sleeping bag while Maria rummaged inside her backpack. Lucy watched Maria and wondered what it was she was looking for. Maria noticed Lucy had been staring and stopped. Lucy smiled apologetically and looked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

Maria shrugged. "It's all right. You must be wondering 'bout all this." She pointed to her bulging backpack. Lucy shrugged back. Then, Maria asked, "You sleepy yet?"

Truth was, Lucy wasn't. How could she sleep knowing she might never be allowed to set foot out there again? But she could not tell Maria that. "No."

Maria grabbed her backpack, stood, and motioned to Lucy with her head. "Come. Maybe we can talk and I'll bore you to death until you fall asleep. Or I can show you something first then I'll bore you with talk."

Intrigued, Lucy followed Maria out. They passed by Charles who nodded to them once then went back to talking to whoever it was in the main camp. Vin was already inside their tent.

"I know what you're thinking and no, I don't think there'll be any Brokeback Mountain happening tonight," Maria whispered, which sent Lucy into fits of laughter. They went to a secluded area in the camp, nearer to the spit where their dinner was cooked earlier. They sat around the burning embers. Maria grabbed several twigs and threw them into the flames. She opened her backpack and took out a large drawing pad and handed it to Lucy. When Lucy opened the cover, she saw drawings and sketches of people and events. Lucy was amazed.

"These are amazing!" she exclaimed, turning page after page. All the faces were as good as likenesses. "Charcoal?"

"Some of the earlier ones, yes, but I ran out of stock last week and after the storm there wasn't any to buy in Glasgow," replied Maria.

"They all look so real," Lucy remarked. Most of the drawings were of native South American women and some were of events. A few drawings depicted something like a battle. Lucy was mesmerized in particular by two drawings: one portrayed the close-up of a young woman's face and the other was a battle scene between soldiers and a crowd. Dead people formed a barrier between the two warring groups.

"Have you been to something like this before?" asked Lucy. She could not imagine being in the midst of war. War was bloody and violent. There was no humanity in war, and men become like animals. Lucy remembered her cousin Victor. He was only a few years older than she was and he had to go and see so much suffering and death. He was sent to Iraq immediately after graduation and then to Africa. Lucy has never spoken with Victor or written to him about what was going on out there. She thought she ought to have been more caring but she was always remiss when it came to family—her one great flaw in character.

"No," said Maria. "I was born and grew up in Mexico. But my parents lived in Cuba before. They left because they did not believe in Castro's ideals. Their families were wiped out and my parents had no choice but to illegally enter America to be saved."

Lucy's heart went out to Maria. "I'm sorry."

"My mother, she has never forgotten her suffering. She always told her children about the horrors of war and the terror of being different. Because if you're different from the rest of the world, you are nothing to them and you are dispensable. So she also told us to strive to be different, to do what we ought to do, live as we ought to live. She thought in America, it was a good thing to be different. Americans, such a diverse group of people. Asians, Europeans, Arabs, Jews…everyone and anyone can be an American. You can be different but you can also belong at the same time. What she did not know then was that there was a different war being fought in America—a war against difference."

"What do you mean?" asked Lucy, not understanding.

"Difference is what makes us special, Lucy," explained Maria. Because you are different, there are things that only you can understand do. You will always be needed because you can do something else. Imagine, if you were the only plumber in a city of one-thousand lawyers, you would be rich, you would be in demand, and you would be loved."

"And what exactly is a war against difference?"

Maria gazed into the flames and poked the embers with a long branch. "Sometimes, Lucy, you're so different that you ultimately become similar to everyone else. An entire community full of Asians, white Americans, black Americans, Europeans, Middle East people, Jews…you're all the same because you're all different. And it's not good to be the same. People thrive in difference. We realize we are special and so we think of ourselves as better than what we are or could be. There begins the problem. We become more and more different, more and more isolated, until there is a gap between the people that could not be bridged. And the only way to bridge it is to go over to the other side and assail them. We declare war on them. We hurt them, we hate them, and they return the feelings back. In the end, we do not want to be so different after all but it is too late."

Lucy felt she understood a little of what Maria was saying but she could not grasp the entire idea yet. She watched the emotions flicker on Maria's face, the shadows of the trees and walls of rock around them mirrored there by the light of the flames. Maria Cotrojos was a beautiful woman but one whom Lucy saw was immensely sad and discontent. Lucy would have held her hand because she understood the sadness. But this was Maria Cotrojos and she was Lucy Diornan. Lucy has always had problems with touching other people. And she feared to let Maria know she understood lest she was mistaken and be thought of assuming.

"Have you ever been to Cuba?" Lucy asked.

Maria shook her head and smiled ruefully. "No, I haven't. I once dreamed of going. My mother kept me from fulfilling that dream."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Mothers," she said sarcastically. Maria laughed. "Yes. Mothers." But she sobered quickly and said, "I understood where she was coming from, though. She lived the horrors of Castro's regime and she hated him. She feared for my life, perhaps my heart. I was never there and have no knowledge of Cuba but from what she told me. But to read of these things makes me sad and angry, as angry as she was."

"So you never went."

"No. For her, I won't."

"But for yourself?"

Maria smiled. "I don't want to be different. If I go back there, then it will be true. It is tiresome to be different. It's better this way."

Lucy would have nodded; she often felt the same way around her family. In her mind's eye, though she hated to assume, she saw Maria as a young girl in an American school, looked down upon by her classmates; she was friendless, listless, and different because she was not of the same race. Lucy saw Mrs. Cotrojos working in a burger joint, no rest, no bathroom breaks, a slave. Lucy's heart went out to them and the sadness of not being able to go back to the ruins was replaced by indignation on her part. Lucy felt she ought to have done something. For ever since she was a child, she wanted to belong. But there was something about her that did not jive with other people. It was—is—difficult to be different, to the point of denying oneself and one's origins. Lucy's chest ached and she brought a hand up. It felt as if something was clutching at her heart. She refrained from wincing and decided it was because of the cold air seeping through her clothes.

Maria looked at Lucy and seriously she said, "You know, Miklaes and the rest of the big guys always talk about you."

Lucy frowned. One of Lucy's fears was to be talked about behind her back. The memory of Tom Bainbridge's betrayal of her and the gossip that spread like wildfire through Harvard was enough to make Lucy's heart race. "What?"

Maria shrugged. "I don't know what about but I heard your name mentioned several times even before you came to Numenor. And always it was Miklaes doing the mentioning. Everyone wondered about you and when you arrived, we were surprised. I hope you're not offended. You are young and we expected the daughter of Miklaes' rival to be much older."

"Don't tell me he has been gushing praises!" Lucy exclaimed incredulously because Miklaes has never said a kind word to her or about her. It was perfectly all right to assume he would never do such a thing.

"How well do you know Miklaes?" asked Maria. "He's an old bully."

"Yes, I agree. Age did not seem to have mellowed him."

"But he believed enough that you could contribute something to this expedition so you're here."

"But that's largely because of Bancroft."

"Well, whether because Bancroft ordered him to bring you here or not, it's still a wonder. You are the youngest in the team and largely inexperienced. Yet you're here rubbing shoulders with the big guns in the field."

Lucy shrugged. "Maybe it's because of who I am. I mean, my grandfather and father knew a lot about ancient civilizations. This whole island is named after one that's found in a tale they both loved."

"Maybe so but you also have a good eye, Lucy. You have a feel of things. The door in the tunnel, the alternative exit, the ruins, the pit—you have a natural skill for finding out things. But I have to say that you're such a mess when it comes to your own safety."

Lucy laughed. "Yeah, I think so too! But I don't find things when I look for them. Truth is, I believe they find me, not the other way around. Most of the time I lose myself in work. I know the techniques, yes. I can pick up a stone and brush it for days and reveal a diamond. It's not skill. It's something else."

"Hm? Like magic?"

Lucy sighed. "No. I don't think so."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So you're one of those who don't believe in magic?"

Lucy took her turn poking at the flames. "The perception of magic is subjective. You can believe in enchantment and tricks as magic. Love is magic for a lot of people. Miracles are magical to some. I found out early in life that I cannot believe in magic, whether it is an abstract thought or something material, because it interferes with logic. I cannot be an effective archaeologist if I believe in the inexplicability of things. Everything has a reason."

Maria was smiling slightly and silently watching Lucy. "Do you know what magic realism is?"

"Yes. A form of literary movement, particularly in South America. _Like Water For Chocolate_?" Lucy said, quoting the title of the famous book by Laura Esquivel.

"True. Her characters are as real as you and me but their lives are interwoven with magic and enchantment."

"Books, stories filled with magic and wonder provide a means of escaping a dull, pragmatic life," said Lucy. "But it doesn't mean they are possible."

Maria shrugged. "When I was a child, while my mother told me horror stories about Cuba, I did escape by way of books and they were about magic." Maria grinned and for the first time, despite the night and the dark, Lucy saw Maria happy. "I loved fairy tales and imagined I was a princess most of the time. Of course, when I got older and more pragmatic—" Maria pointed a finger at Lucy "I delved into magic realism. It was the reason why I became a historian."

Lucy could not find the connection. "Why? I mean, what's the relationship between history and magic unless you consider oral tradition as its source…"

Maria shook her head at Lucy admonishingly. "No, Lucy. Stop looking at history through the eyes of a scientist. Look at it through the eyes of a human being, one who learns by experience. Forget logic for a while and believe a story as it is, for its own sake, a story whose sole purpose is to be told and passed on."

"Is there really time for that?" asked Lucy, annoyed. "I read stories, yes, but I don't take them out of the context in which they were meant. It is not that I don't recognize the importance of these myths and legends because I do! They are part of the collective consciousness of people and people are central in our work."

"You are right in saying that, Lucy, but your judgment is clouded by your bias against them," said Maria, fully facing Lucy now. "When you told Miklaes that the only other way to find evidence of the kind of people that inhabited this island before is to ask—to know the oral traditions of the people around the Hebridean Coast—you were right. Many of the things we know in stories find their origins in truth. But we do not know what those truths are. We are tasked to look for the truth but how do we begin when we don't believe?"

"So you're saying that I should believe in people with pointy ears who look like a heavy made-up version of a blonde Orlando Bloom?" Lucy asked sarcastically, staring into the fire. "That they may have walked the shores of this island before, this Numenor?"

Maria raised her eyebrows. "I'm not saying that you believe them as a child would. Don't be too dismissive. Always give things the benefit of the doubt until you are proven correct or otherwise. The Cyclops was a famous monster in the Greek epics and now we have congenital anomalies cropping up for every twenty babies born."

Lucy thought Maria had a point but she was still reluctant to believe and it showed on her face.

"When I went to Oxford to do the preliminary research, Francis Diornan was the author of the first document the librarian handed to me," said Maria. Lucy recognized her grandfather's name and looked up from the flames. Maria nodded. "It was called _A Treatise on Ebudæ_. Knowing that Ebudæ was the Old Roman name for the Hebrides, I eagerly read the pages and was shocked to learn that the book was not about Hebridean history per se but of its historical connections to myth and lore. Professor Diornan dissected the diverse cultures within and around the islands and concluded that they all shared the same thread of thought. His thesis was grounded on proof that the oral traditions still spoken, sung, or written about in the early decades of the 20th century shared the same descriptions, same characters in each story. You know I'm talking about the elves and the fairies."

"But these places are geographically linked, Maria," Lucy asserted. "It is so easy for culture to spread in these islands because they are so close to one another. Besides, the raiders from mainland Europe—all of them have stepped on these shores and brought their own culture here."

"That explains why they share the same elements of the stories, Lucy," said Maria. "But it doesn't explain why they believe in, say, elves, as looking a certain way, or acting a certain way. Note also their preoccupation with swans. Everywhere, more prominently in Celtic culture, you find images of swans. The royal family of England is associated with swans that they have caretakers for these animals. Do you know that they believe the monarch will die if even one of those swans dies?"

Lucy shook her head. She knew about the swans in Celtic culture but has never heard it in connection with royalty.

"Why do you think the elves have pointy ears?" asked Maria "What is it about the human ear? The shape of the human ear is important physiologically because the way it curves gathers and amplifies sound. When you can't hear someone, what do you do? You place your hand behind your ear to hear better, right? Like this?" She demonstrated and Lucy watched attentively. "I'm not a biologist and I know little about the human body but a wider pinna allows for more air in the vicinity of your ear. So you hear better with that kind of ear shape. It is not far from reality, really, for people with pointy ears to exist, if you are going to consider the laws of evolution and adaptation."

"But pointy ears and with other special abilities, like, living forever?"

"Your grandfather explained that forever was relative," said Maria. "Think of a time in the world when pollution was zero and disease almost nonexistent. The only two enemies of men were their fellowmen and nature. If there's no war and there's food and drink to last a lifetime, who would not have longevity of life? A life beyond a hundred years is not impossible either. Besides, who can contest your age or prove you to be really old when those who knew you before are all dead and you are left to do your own proving? And so myths and legends are born out of simple truths, Lucy, to explain, to pass on the information."

Lucy nodded. She could see there was sense in what Maria was saying. Was she betraying her grandfather and father by denying these stories and the truth behind them which they both died for?

"There were two other essays by Francis Diornan among the pile and I read them. I saw what he was getting at. Then, I presented these to Miklaes and several other people, including Bancroft. To make a long story short, Miklaes humiliated me in front of almost fifty people by debunking every last bit of my research. He killed me especially when I began quoting Professor Diornan. Or, rather he was killing your grandfather."

"But he did not fire you."

"He did and Bancroft threatened to fire him so I was put back," Maria said, grinning. "Miklaes, in his rage, blurted out your existence and his misfortune at having taught two idiotic Diornans in a lifetime. Bancroft heard and asked about you. Since then, your name was frequently mentioned in discussion. I was never made to take part in those but occasionally I heard snippets when I passed by the large tent. The research I did is the reason why Bancroft made me come with you here. Miklaes was the first archaeologist and researcher Bancroft hired for this expedition but he was never able to dig deeper into history. The reason? He knew the two Professor Diornans have already made extensive researches into the topic of the Hebrides and he could not stomach using their work to prove anything. Yes, I know of the feud. The librarian in Oxford was only too willing to share the details when I told her I was working with Miklaes on something."

Lucy was not surprised. Miklaes was a proud man. "But I really am nothing like them. I keep hoping people will stop expecting me to be like them because they're, well…"

"Bancroft believes in you for some unknown reason but he has never seen you work. I have seen you work and so I believe that you have a lot of things to offer to this project. But it seems you don't believe in yourself, Lucy."

"Even if I believed I was the greatest person in the world, it would not give me permission to go back out there and down that pit," Lucy said disappointedly.

"Hey, you two!" they heard Charles call out to them from the tents. "It's almost midnight! We have to be up by five tomorrow!"

The two women stood and began walking back. Before Lucy could go into the tent, Maria touched her shoulder and whispered, "About you not going back there, maybe I can do something about it. You're not going to be allowed anywhere near that pit but maybe you can document. I'll see what I can do. I'll talk to Charles. Okay?"

Lucy smiled. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Maria smiled back. "Let's just say someone ordered me to look after you here."

"You don't happen to know my mother, do you?" Lucy asked jokingly. Maria laughed and hugged her. Lucy has never been hugged by anyone aside from close friends and family. She relished the feeling and hugged Maria back.

"Good night, Lucy."

"Good night, Maria. And thanks."

Lucy went inside the tent where Susan was still fast asleep and snoring. Lucy peeked through the opening in the tent and saw Maria approach Charles who was still in front of the laptop. Lucy prepared for bed and tucked herself into her sleeping bag. She could not sleep however and lay sideways, staring at the shadows of the trees on the walls, thinking about her grandfather and imagining pointy-eared people sleeping on the same ground she was on top of. Pointy-eared people with swans for pets. A long while later, Maria entered the tent and Lucy heard her getting inside her own sleeping bag.

Then, Maria said, "I hope you have enough film for the next five days."

Lucy grinned in the darkness. She finally closed her eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter is the beginning of the analysis of Lucy's character—her joys, her fears, and her qualities. It has also given the crux of the entire war against evil, as personified by Morgoth, if you were astute enough to detect it. (A.N. Lindale grins mischievously) By the way, about Lucy's statement ("That they may have walked the shores of this island before, this Numenor?"), elves were not forbidden to go to Numenor until the Kings of Numenor, the last of whom was Ar-Pharazon, declared the immortal inhabitants of the Undying Lands the enemies of mortal Men so it is plausible that an elven corpse may be found in the island—if it _is _Numenor. 


End file.
